Play of the Fates
by PaolaAdara
Summary: She indulges in a night of pleasure that should have soon been forgotten, but what she doesn't expect is seeing him again...in the most unlikely of places. On hiatus. AU
1. Prologue: The One With The Apple Martini

Title: Play of the Fates (0 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates _is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

Complete Summary:

Cagalli Yula Athha, the blonde spitfire who's out to prove herself and the stubborn daughter of a rich business tycoon, doesn't believe that she needs the love of a man to complete her. With a number of relationships that have fallen short of the walk down the aisle, she has proven time and again that married life isn't for her. Hardheaded, she sticks to her beliefs like bees stick to honey, facing the world with her I'm-my-own attitude, that is, until she meets a man with hauntingly beautiful, emerald eyes that doesn't take no for an answer. Now her world has taken a roller coaster ride that might just change her views, and, in the process, teach her to submit to that old adage: that risking one's heart might just be worth it.

**o-o**

Athrun Zala is a busy man that has no time for the capriciousness of women. Everything he does and owns has been thought-off and well planned, from the girl he will be dating to the sharp crease of his wool slacks. The path he's been taking has put him on the top, and it leaves no room for indecision and uncertainty, but when he ends up tangled in rumpled sheets with an amber-eyed vixen, he suddenly finds himself veering off his cut-and-dried route. Will he try to get things back in perspective or will he accept what the Fates have offered him and learn that, no matter how cliché, love really conquers all?

**o-o-o-o-o**

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Prologue**_

The red Mazda6 MPS sped through the streets of downtown Orb, ignoring the many establishments teeming with denizens out to enjoy the impressive nightlife a Friday night offered. When it reached the intersection, it made a sharp turn to the right and didn't slow down until the next avenue.

"I said don't call me tonight. It's Friday, for fuckity's sake, get off my case and let me do my damn job!" The owner of the voice clicked her mobile phone off and stepped on the breaks, stopping in front of the Freedom Metropolis, one of the grandest, five-star hotel this side of Orb.

The engine died, and out stepped a vexed Cagalli Yula Athha. She promptly nodded at the valet before tossing her car key at him. Striding purposely towards the glass doors, her modest kitten heels click-clacking against the marble steps, she hardly registered the greeting of the doorman as he opened the doors for her. With a single swipe of her eyes around the foyer, she took to the right and vanished down the carpeted stairwell.

Cagalli was more than annoyed. Hell, she was furious. Her father had called her again, demanding her to return to the company and stop being the stubborn woman that she was. But that wasn't the worse yet. Not only did her long-ago ex-boyfriend prove too clingy by still calling her nonstop, but he even dared to visit her at her office that afternoon. Add the fact that her partner, the other secretary of her boss, was pestering her to change the proposal she'd drafted for the merger's meeting next week. Cagalli had made the mistake of showing it to her, and now she wouldn't stop badgering her about how ineffective it all sounded. Cagalli had gone through hell and back to get all the details she needed for the proposal, and that damn secretary was telling her that the draft sounded ineffective.

_The nerve!_

After having enough of the other secretary's intrusive behavior, she'd stormed out of the office and driven off. She hadn't had any destination in mind, but by the time the first stop light glowed red, it hit her that she wanted something to get her mind off work, something liquid that gradually became hard on the system. She wasn't one to drink off her problems and frustrations, but the urge to down a few shots of alcohol had surfaced so badly that she'd bypassed her usual route home and driven downtown where the popular pubs and clubs were. But when she saw the sizeable crowds gathering at each and every establishment, she'd cringed and immediately changed her mind about going to any of those bars. Places with alcohol and a large crowd meant mingling, and mingling with a rowdy bunch was the last thing on her mind. So now she was here, at the lounge of a nice hotel where patrons were sparse and where she could nurse her drink in silence.

The smooth cadence of jazz cloaked her as the tastefully dimmed lights relaxed her eyes. She slowed her pace and walked up to the bar, sitting herself on a stool and ordering a strawberry margarita. She looked around and was quite happy with her decision to head to a hotel's lounge instead of a busy pub, and when the sweet taste of the margarita tickled her taste buds, she allowed a small smile to be comfortable on her lips.

Cagalli felt her troubles seep off her on her third cocktail, and the slight buzz in her head was a welcome sensation. She refused to be bothered by her work during the weekends, so she had always tried to unwind on Friday nights to take her mind off things. Surely, things wouldn't look so bad in the morning. She sipped her margarita contentedly. That was what she liked about alcohol — it made her optimism reach another level. Screw her father, screw her ex-boyfriend-slash-stalker, and screw that bloody secretary. They could all go and rot in hell for all she cared.

Just when the blonde was about to order another drink, someone took the stool beside her. She turned her head and was met by a mesmerizing pair of emeralds, and — she believed it was the alcohol talking — a sexy pair of lips smiling at her amusedly. She vaguely heard him order an apple martini for her, and, _dammit_, those sinful lips just roused something in the pit of her stomach.

"Thanks," she managed to get out when the bartender placed the glass of martini in front of her.

"Sure," came the reply, and for some reason, the delivery of that simple word from the man beside her blocked out the rhythmic notes of the saxophone in the background.

"Any occasion you're out celebrating?" she asked, taking a sip of the semi-sweet cocktail while stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye. She couldn't help ogling — Armani had never looked so good on anyone.

The man beside her laughed, a rich sound that sent tingles down her spine. "Can't a man offer a woman a drink just because he caught her sitting alone?"

Cagalli raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying that this is some sort of a pity drink?" Her breath caught in her throat when he smiled lazily at her.

"I wouldn't call it that exactly. More like an introductory drink." He took a sip of his Sazerac after cursorily glancing at the lip mark on Cagalli's glass.

The buzz in her head got louder, and Cagalli laughed at his answer. "You're a funny guy!"

"I've been called a lot of things, but 'funny' was never one of them," he chuckled, amused at the skeptical expression on her face. "And why are you drinking all alone, may I ask? On a Friday night, no less."

Cagalli glared at him, but realized he was just teasing. Plus, the alcohol was preventing her from getting offended anyway. "Oh, this and that." The cocktails she'd had, plus the apple martini he'd offered, siphoned through her veins, and she sent him a small smile she was confident was seductive enough. "But aren't you glad I came without company? Otherwise, we might not even be having this conversation."

He laughed again, and the rest of their conversation was a blur as Cagalli downed another cocktail. The buzz hit an alarming note, and the next thing she knew, both of them were stumbling through an empty corridor and fumbling for the card key, lost in heated kisses and wandering touches.

When he got the door open, they stumbled inside and Cagalli found herself against the hard wood with him pressed intimately against her, his lips trailing liquid fire down her neck as he un-tucked her button-down from her slacks. She moaned when he nibbled on her collarbone, and her hands shakily shed off his jacket. But before she could attempt to unbutton his dress shirt, he'd already deftly opened her blouse, sending her arching towards him when his hands made contact with her sensitized skin.

He pulled her off the door, working on the clasp of her pants that easily slid off her hips once he'd pulled down the zipper. He led them to the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he plundered every crevice of her mouth with arousing flicks of his tongue. The pooling desire in her stomach grew, and Cagalli had a hard time breathing when he lay her down on the bed and shed his own shirt. She waited with tingling anticipation as he crawled towards her, his form excitingly looming above her as he supported his weight on his elbows. Her hands reached up of their own accord, and Cagalli glorified in the feeling of hard planes against her fingertips.

She looked up with hazy eyes and ached to have him touch her again, but when he ducked his head to capture her lips, she was a bit frustrated to feel the grainy texture of his wool pants moving against her thighs. She slightly pushed him away, but he merely chuckled at her when he noticed her nimble fingers going for his belt. Just as she got his pants undone, he attacked her mouth with a passion so raw that she was sent reeling. His fingers caressed every inch of her exposed skin, and with a flick of his wrist he'd unclasped her bra and thrown it away.

Cagalli felt a million sensations when he trailed open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to the vale of her breasts. She hadn't felt like this for so long, and the feeling of being lavished all over sent her teetering over the edge of rational thinking.

She let out another moan when he cupped her over her panties, and she arched towards him involuntarily. He slid down her underwear so achingly slowly, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Although inebriated from the cocktails she'd drunk earlier and the electrifying sensations he mercilessly drew from her, she knew what she wanted, and he was crazily idling and tormenting her in the process.

Just when she thought she'd cry from the sudden loss of contact as he'd detached himself from her after removing her undergarment, she found herself letting out another throaty groan when he pressed against her. Heated skin over heated skin as he'd finally discarded all of his clothing.

He kissed her hard, nibbling on her lower lip before plunging his tongue in, robbing her of any stray thought she might still be having. She felt his arousal pressing against her, and her legs opened to accommodate him. Still he lingered there, kneading her breasts and barely acknowledging her silent entreaty to take her. She ran her nails across his back and tried to push him in her, but he resisted, moving his hand to rest on her lower abdomen to keep her from cambering towards him.

Cagalli almost growled in frustration. Just as she was about to swat his hand away, he entered her in one, unexpected sweep, forcing her to wrench her mouth away from his as she threw her head back and a guttural moan escaped her lips.

He sucked the base of her throat then made his way to her ears, leaving searing trails where his lips touched her skin. "You feel so good," he said in a breathy whisper, and Cagalli shivered at the warm air that ghosted the side of her face. He buried himself in her, waiting for her to adjust around him before setting the pace — a slow, torturous movement that tickled Cagalli's sanity.

For long, agonizing seconds, he teased her with deliberately leisured drives, retreating almost to full-extent before sliding back in, in smooth motions.

She was going crazy. "Fas—"

He cut her off by sealing his mouth over hers, his hand fondling her breast, making her whimper against his lips. And just when she'd almost had enough of his sweet torture, he began to pick up his rhythm, almost as if reading her mind. Cagalli wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting his every thrust with as much fervor.

This…This was how Friday nights should be, Cagalli thought, and her problems, already dulled by the alcohol from earlier, were eradicated completely as this man she'd just met made love to her the way she'd wished her former boyfriends had.

Cagalli felt the intense tension build up inside her as the friction between them reached higher limits. He moved his hand to where they were joined, and Cagalli foggily wondered how he could still decipher where he ended and she began. He flicked his fingers over the nub that sent Cagalli clamping around him, and with a few more thrusts, she crested her carnal delectations, her screams of pleasure muffled by a well-timed kiss he favored her. She tumbled into a kaleidoscope of sensations with too blurry boundaries to distinguish one from the other, and he followed soon after.

He remained on top and inside of her, dragging scorching lazy kisses along her jaw line as they tried to catch their breaths.

Nibbling on her lower lip, he pulled himself away then lay beside her, his fingertips feathering over her skin as his hand moved south, succeeding in rekindling the desire in her. It didn't take long before he'd brought them again in a whirlwind of sexual frenzy, drowning Cagalli in a pool of bliss that had started off with a sexy smile and an apple martini.

**x-x-x-x-x**


	2. I: The One Where Cagalli Disobeys

Title: Play of the Fates (1 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter One**_

Athrun Zala had been staying in Orb for a week already due to a business sellout concerning one of the top car brands, and the company he represented, the Genesis Motors, which produced the automobile make Justice, was one of those huge car companies that were vying for the sellout. It would be highly beneficial to their company if they could buy the rights from the Nazca Corporation to produce the automobile make Vesalius. So far, he'd only succeeded in meeting one of the executives because there were three other car companies contending for the right of ownership, and from what they'd talked about, he'd learnt about how tough the competition he was in.

Athrun adjusted his sunglasses and waited for the traffic light to turn green. He wasn't exactly worrying. He'd handled tougher competitions before, and he hadn't lost a single one yet — he wasn't about to begin now.

He gingerly plugged the earphones of his port-free mobile in his ears and pressed the tiny button on the small pad suspended from the thin cable. "Yes?" he answered.

"_What time are we meeting again?"_

Athrun shook his head at his best friend's voice. "If, for just one second, you can keep your hands off Lacus, maybe you can remember a few minor details."

"_Funny, Zala, I remember she hasn't come back from her trip to the PLANTs yet. Now, my anti-social friend, if _you_ learn to quit being incommunicado for once a while, maybe you'll know what's been going on in your friends' lives."_

Athrun laughed, shifting gears as the road before him was quite empty of vehicles. "Fair enough."

"_So?"_

"Ah, yeah, around twelve. I still have to visit the Onogoro Branch of Justice."

"_Good timing. My schedule's free at that time. Anyway, I've to jet. I have a class to teach in ten minutes."_

"See you, Kira."

"_Of course, especially since I know I'll be getting free lunch!"_

Before Athrun could articulate a response, his best friend had already disconnected. Athrun shook his head of midnight-blue hair again, chuckling at how easily he'd been had by Kira when no other men in the business world had ever done it.

He and Kira had been best friends since they were kids, and even when they'd separated paths come college graduation, they were lucky to have never really drifted apart. There'd only been one occasion when he'd almost wished he had never met Kira, but that was a long time ago, and he'd been going out with Lacus then.

In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised or angry when Kira hooked up with Lacus even when knowing that the pink-head had just ended a relationship with him. Although a lot of people said that Athrun and Lacus were the perfect couple, he'd always had this feeling that there was something missing. It wasn't until much later did he realize that what he and Lacus shared was more of a friendship with sibling love than a romantic affair that had them craving for each other.

Kira had profusely apologized, but he'd also boldly told Athrun that he wouldn't let the blue-head stand between him and Lacus. Athrun had surprised him then by laughing, and Kira had never looked so confused in his entire life. That had ended their fight because he'd finally admitted, both to himself and to Kira, that his relationship with Lacus had been doomed from the very beginning.

He hadn't been involved in a serious relationship since then. A few romantic affairs here and there, but none had really gotten so far as to get him to commit, which he couldn't decide whether it was good or bad. He was a busy man — just today he'd be in another meeting after getting together with Kira — and marriage was a dangerous path for him; he hardly had time for himself, let alone another person who'd probably demand all of his attention. On the other hand, whenever he looked at Kira and Lacus…. Well, there was just something there that was so relaxing, he couldn't help but consider that settling down might not be so bad.

Currently, though, he was unattached. Kira and Lacus found it funny to tease him about how he would supposedly much rather fall in love with his work than any woman who might just be the right one for him. It wasn't that he'd rather work his ass off when he could go gallivanting with the opposite sex; it was just that no one had caught his eye recently. There was this woman in his workplace that was quite obviously taken to him, but there was just something wrong with the sway of her hips, the stretch of legs that enticed his other co-workers, and the pouty mouth that always shone with lip gloss. Besides, she disturbingly resembled Lacus that he'd probably have nightmares upon waking up next to her. Add that to the fact that although she just worked in the next division in their office floor, he couldn't seem to remember her name.

Athurn rounded a curb. There had also been this redhead Dearka, his fraternity brother, had once made him go on a blind date with. That was around the time he'd been a media magnet due to the very much publicized end of his engagement with Lacus, who had been the most popular pop singer then. He hadn't wanted to go, but Dearka could be really persuasive at times. It had been all right at the beginning, but after she'd gotten over the initial shyness usual in blind dating, he'd discovered just how much that girl knew about him. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and he hadn't been flattered to know that she'd had a crush on him, not when she'd practically relayed to him everything the media made public about his life.

Athrun fought the urge to sigh. When had dating been such a pain in the ass? Oh, right, when he'd realized he wanted something more than a great fuck, and that what he wanted was something he couldn't commit to, either. He had slaved to climb the ladder of success independently, and where he was now took most of his free time away, not to mention his thoughts. For all his realizations, he couldn't quite afford being deeply involved with someone. That left him with two stifling choices: one-night stands and convenient flings. Sometimes Athrun Zala just hated his life.

He slowed down as he reached his destination, a two-story building that packed a huge floor space horizontally. Shifting to the reverse gear, he backed his shiny silver Maserati up towards the empty parking slot. Kira had once asked him why he drove cars of another automobile make, and he'd only shrugged then. The Justice was an exceptional brand, heavily demanded by those who could afford it, but he just wasn't keen on getting his own Justice automobile, not even the latest GAT-X series that had Dearka drooling.

Killing the engine then stepping out of the vehicle, he adjusted his matte-black-metal-framed Révo sunglasses as he studied the glass-and-steel architecture in front of him, the sun glinting off the smooth, shiny surfaces. Applying a slight pressure on his car key button, he locked his car. He crossed the street and jammed one hand inside his trouser pocket when he reached the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Zala," the concierge greeted.

**o-o**

"You ought to get laid," Miriallia calmly suggested, following the pacing of a certain irritated blonde who'd been restless and agitated since she got to her apartment. "Again."

"_What?"_ Cagalli had to pause as she gawked at her friend.

"When was the last time?"

"_Excuse _me?" Cagalli couldn't stop staring at the brunette like she'd suddenly sprouted little devil horns on the top of her head.

Miriallia rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, Cagalli, pretend you're some holy virgin who hasn't explored the other uses of a bed one too many times. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

"Miriallia!" Cagalli exclaimed, still unable to comprehend Miriallia's approach to that certain subject. It was as if the brunette were discussing the weather. Really, when had her sex life been so talked about that her friend spoke of it like it was some ordinary topic they usually spoke of? Her life wasn't _Sex and the City_, and Miriallia ought to know that. And, as far as she was concerned, she'd kept her tiny escapade to herself. For some unexplained reason, she didn't feel like telling Miriallia about that night at the Freedom Metropolis. Or, maybe, it was because she'd once told Miriallia that she was above one-night stands, only to find herself trying to forget a certain night with someone whose name she hadn't thought important to know.

Miriallia chuckled, amused by the highly scandalized expression on Cagalli's face. "I'm kidding! Jeez!" She took a while to smother her laughter. "But really, you're wound up so tight that you'd probably come undone if the phone so much as beeps. What gives?"

Cagalli almost sighed in relief. That Saturday, Miriallia had asked her where she'd been the night before. Apparently, Miriallia had wanted to visit this newly opened bar at the 23rd street in Downtown Orb and was trying to contact her to no avail. Cagalli had easily told her that she had gone home right after she got out of the office, and had promptly fallen asleep due to exhaustion. The brunette bought the story, hook, line, and sinker, and that actually made Cagalli feel bad.

"It's just work problems. Some proposal for a draft that's been a subject of debate between the other secretary and me. Dammit, sometimes I wonder why I hadn't taken a job at my father's company instead of running away."

"Let me think. Oh yeah, because you said you can live on your own," Miriallia deadpanned. "I swear, if I had your father and his finances, I wouldn't even think of stepping out of my comfort zone!"

Cagalli snorted. "And therein lies our difference."

"Point." Miriallia retrieved her wine glass from the coffee table and downed a few gulps. "Aside from that. I know there's something else."

"Really, am I such an open book?" Cagalli exasperatedly sighed. She looked at Miriallia who arched an eyebrow at her, almost asking her if she really wanted the brunette to answer that. "All right, all right, I am! Damn, I gotta learn to stop being so readable."

"That wouldn't be fun for me, but stop digressing, Athha. No matter how much you stray off topic, I'd just get back to what we're originally discussing." She finished the last drops of her wine, deposited the glass back to the coffee table, then settled deeper into Cagalli's comfortable couch.

"Feh." Cagalli mildly glared at her friend before deciding to plop down on the empty space beside her. "Father's called and has been asking me to reconsider his offer. Believe me, it's getting tempting."

"Oh? How so?"

"An apartment at the Upper East Side and a Justice!" Cagalli cursorily surveyed her modest one-bedroom apartment. It wasn't bad, and despite how her salary didn't exactly compare to what she'd be getting if she worked at her father's company, she was doing fine on her own. She got an apartment — with a yellow, white, and orange finish, much to Miriallia's delight — she owned an efficiently nice, red Mazda, and she could afford night-outs at expensive establishments, even though not on consecutive nights. She had no complaints; after all, she worked most of the time and usually only had Friday and Saturday nights to herself.

"Did you say Justice?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose I did…" she trailed off, suspiciously eyeing Miriallia.

Miriallia grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Then what are you here dawdling away for?"

Cagalli rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile at Miriallia's enthusiasm. A lovely flat at the Upper East Side and a Justice didn't come by everyday. Even as a teenager, she wasn't one to splurge just because her daddy had too much money in his hands, but she'd grown up with money surrounding her. Now that she'd had a taste of how it was to live simply and by working her ass off to be able to buy the littlest of things, an offer like that was kind of hard to resist. Add that to the irritating fact that she was not getting along well with the other secretary.

Why'd her former partner have to quit? Damn, if only she didn't have her pride, which, she recalled, was also the reason she'd snapped her credit cards in two the day she ran away from her father's shelter.

"I'm kidding, all right. I know your pride won't let you be swayed by that. So, what now?"

The blonde sighed, ruffling her hair in annoyance. "I'm gonna have a talk with my old man. The sooner, the better."

**o-o**

When Cagalli said she'd do something right away, she meant it, and that was why she was now standing in front of the great double doors of the Athha Mansion in a hurriedly put together combination of a faded red pullover, threadbare jean shorts, and a mulish set of her jaw. If truth be told, she hadn't been in such haphazard fashion in a long time, and even if she hadn't exactly thought of it, this ought to grate on her father's nerves. Damned if she walked in his house the way he'd want her to: accomplished and businesslike. She could almost imagine her father gritting his teeth as she talked of how she was doing fine with her job and supporting herself when she was dressed like she couldn't even afford a decent outfit to visit him in.

Steeling her nerves, she raised her hand and pulled the thick twisted cord to trigger the chimes that served as a secondary doorbell, the first one being the security mechanism at the gates. As a child, she loved hearing the musical scale ring, but that was way before she'd decided that getting out of this house was something she needed to do to prove that she could stand on her own two feet. And besides, she was a grown-up now, not some innocent child that laughed at the mere flutter of a butterfly's wings.

To her surprise, Mana, her old nanny, was the one who opened the door instead of his father's trusted head of security, Kisaka. For as along as she could remember, Kisaka greeted visitors first before any of the butlers they'd had.

"Lady Cagalli!" Mana enthused, glad to see her charge and, at the same time, scandalized to see what Cagalli was wearing.

Cagalli winced when Mana clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Nice to see you, too, Mana."

"Don't tell me you went here on your motorcycle! Oh my lords, my poor heart!" Mana began to hyperventilate, causing Cagalli to worry as she fumbled for words to assuage her nanny's upset.

Cagalli held up her hands, seemingly to wave off Mana's conclusions. She'd almost forgotten that the last time she'd seen her nanny, she'd been cruising around in her motorcycle, savoring the feeling of being free as much as to annoy her father — that was almost a year and a half ago. But she'd given up that stint not long after. She'd gotten a job, sold the motorcycle, saved the money, then bought a car. It was one of the wisest decisions she'd made in her lifetime, not just because it would appear highly inappropriate to be riding a motorcycle in her office clothes, but that she'd matured from the rebellious girl of her past. It hadn't been too long since she'd run away, but her time alone taught her that it would help a lot if she acted her age. She was twenty-six now, and though there were still times when she'd acted childish — like now, for example, wearing something she knew her father wouldn't agree with just to get on the old man's nerves — she was, more or less, a real grown-up.

"No, Mana, I came in a car," she said, pacifying her nanny when she gestured behind her to reveal a newly washed Mazda6 MPS.

Mana placed a calming hand on her heart. "Oh, thank God!"

Cagalli squinted when the passing breeze swept her hair in a messy tumble. Tucking the stray locks behind her ears, she took a step forward and spoke, "Can I enter now?"

Mana's eyes widened as just now she realized she'd been blocking her charge. "Of course, of course, love."

Cagalli had to smile at that. _Love._ Mana always called her that, no matter how naughty she got, no matter how much she had misbehaved, no matter the failures she'd stacked. If there were one thing she missed during her absence from the Athha mansion, it was that endearment.

Mana took a deep breath and smiled understandingly at the blonde who hadn't graced the marble floor of her father's house in a very long time. "I'm sure you came to see your father."

The blonde gave an almost weary sigh. "It never changes, Mana. He's just— He doesn't— I can't—" Cagalli frowned at herself, the realization of what she was babbling about precluded the need to justify her reason for being there to resurface. Dammit, she wasn't getting emotional, was she? She came here to settle one thing, and by Genesis, she wouldn't walk down some memory lane just because the threshold she was in now held lots of memories for her.

Mana just smiled sympathetically at Cagalli, not quite knowing what to say. In the end, she kept her silence.

"Where is he anyway?" Cagalli asked casually.

"He's in the study. He's meeting with someone."

"Damn."

"Language," Mana sounded a warning note. "I don't think it will take long."

"I don't really want to stay long, either. Do you think you can, um, fetch him for me?"

Mana looked amused. "You should know better, Cagalli. Your father isn't to be disturbed when he's in a meeting, especially if it's anything short of an act of God."

"Meh," Cagalli expressed distastefully. "My being here is more than an act of _any_ god."

Mana chuckled softly as she led Cagalli to the second-floor parlor. "Maybe, but I doubt your father will be pleased if we disturb him."

"Meh," Cagalli repeated, following the elderly woman up the stairs. "Really, Mana, I still know my way around, you know."

"I know, but I want to be sure that you'll wait in the parlor until your father is done."

"Again, Mana, _meh_."

They walked in silence until they reached the room Mana wanted her to wait in. Stepping inside, she briefly surveyed the parlor, noting if anything seemed different, if her absence made her unknowledgeable to things she used to be privy to. The same heavy curtains hung by the window, the different shades of blue a nice play of colors. The same upholstered couches on opposite sides of the room. The same lighting.

Cagalli inwardly rolled her eyes. What the hell was she expecting? That somehow, her father thought of painting the wall purple in her absence? The room didn't hold much significance even before, and it seemed that nothing had changed. _Same old, same old._

"Now, wait here, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be a nice little girl and sit quietly over here," Cagalli replied, walking over one of the couches and sitting on it demurely, provoking Mana to laugh.

"I mean it, Cagalli. Do not disturb your father."

"All right already!"

Mana continued to chuckle as she left her alone in the room.

Cagalli glanced at the wall clock on the opposite wall, taking note of the time. She really didn't want to wait. She was as impatient as she had been before, and it only took a second before she was up and pacing the length of the shiny parquet floor.

She looked at the clock again then checked her wristwatch, as if she didn't quite believe the time the wall clock displayed. She winced. Not even a minute had passed. She stomped her foot. _Ah, fuck it!_

With the abandon of a teenager and the sudden desire to further aggravate her father, she crossed the room and stepped out of the door. Walking the short distance to the study, she grinned at the expression that would mar her father's face the moment she threw open the hard wood and stepped in with the glory of the memory of a rebel daughter.

Running a hand through her slightly unruly hair, she pushed open the door. Her rebellious grin, the misplaced feeling of achievement for disrupting her father's meeting, the disobedient glint in her eyes, everything was quelled the moment a familiar pair of emerald eyes turned towards her even before her father's surprised look registered in her mind.

_Oh fuck…_

**x-x-x-x-x**

Reference/s:

The idea of the chimes for the doorbell is from Susan Elizabeth Phillips' book _Ain't She Sweet?_


	3. II: The One Where Athrun Has Fans

Title: Play of the Fates (2 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of my previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Two**_

If this didn't shake Athrun out of his element, then nothing ever would.

"_Oh fuck,"_ the blonde by the door echoed his thoughts.

"Cagalli!" Uzumi Nara Athha exclaimed, seemingly not making the connection between the blonde's reaction and Athrun's presence. "Language, Ms. Athha. We have a visitor, if you haven't noticed."

The woman, Cagalli, as his client had called her, nodded slowly. "Yes…Father."

Again, Athrun was surprised by the turn of events. Who would have thought that the woman who'd refreshed his mind about how sex should really be was the daughter of one of the clients of Genesis Motors? He knew the world was small, but damn, why didn't he notice that it had gotten even smaller?

"I don't suppose this is anything trivial as you forewent knocking?" Uzumi asked after excusing himself and his daughter's apparent rudeness.

Athrun's gaze moved from Uzumi to his daughter, and he was quite amazed at how quickly Cagalli seemed to have schooled her composure.

"I'm in a hurry, but carry on. I'll wait outside. Excuse me, father, Mr.—?"

It took a short heartbeat before Athrun remembered his manners, and he stood up to introduce himself, but Uzumi beat him to it.

"Athrun Zala," Uzumi supplied. He then turned to him. "Mr. Zala, this is my daughter, Cagalli."

Being addressed by his client completely jolted him out of his befuddlement. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Cagalli." He smiled tentatively, wondering how the blonde girl in front of him was taking all this. She appeared to be a tad flustered, but he couldn't exactly take that against her as he supposed it wasn't always that the stranger she so randomly slept with showed up not just on her doorstep, but inside her house. _Damn._

"Nice to meet you, too." Cagalli stepped back. "I'll be excusing myself," she said, and with that, she backtracked out of the room, unwittingly drawing Athrun's attention to her legs as she strode away.

"Now, where were we?" Uzumi turned to speak with Athrun.

It behooved Athrun to clear his throat to allow him a little time to gather his thoughts. Dammit, when had a woman's legs distracted him as much? Those long columns of flawless flesh had just been wrapped around him last week, and he vaguely wondered how he could have managed to get her out of his head the instant she'd waltzed out of his hotel room after a quick, casual, and painless parting session.

As he turned his attention back to the father of the woman who'd managed to distract him by just showing herself, something clicked in his head. And as Uzumi told him that, aside from the vehicles he was to purchase to serve as company cars, he was planning to buy an extra Justice and have it customized according to his daughter's fancy, Athrun couldn't help but smile inwardly. He was sure that he and Ms. Athha were going to see much of each other in the near future, and closing a deal with a client had never proven this interesting.

**o-o**

If it were possible, Cagalli, with her frenzied pacing, would have worn a hole through the marble flooring. Just once in her life, she'd indulged in a night of fabulous sex with no strings attached, and it promptly blew up in her face. This was just not happening. How could that man in impeccable Armani be the same one as the man her father was currently making a business deal with? Surely, her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Cagalli paused to stare at the door she had so carelessly barged into, shaking her head. No, the man with her father inside was someone else. It just so happened that he looked like the green-eyed god she'd slept with. She paced a little more before collapsing on an armchair, her fingers flying to the bridge of her nose as she felt the first pricks of a coming headache.

She sighed and shook her head again. She couldn't deny it. No matter how much she wanted to delude herself, there was no mistaking that midnight blue hair and emerald eyes. Maybe if she hadn't had the impulsive idea of stoking her father's irritation by interrupting his meeting, she wouldn't have to deal with this. Sometimes, her hardheadedness just got her into troubles she hadn't consciously asked for.

Just as she was about to let out a frustrated groan, a thought came to her. She didn't live in this house anymore, and she rarely saw her father, so she wasn't going to see that Zala guy again, unless they bumped into each other out on the streets, which was highly unlikely since Orb was such a big place. So what if that night proved to be the best she'd had? She wasn't looking for a repeat performance. No, of course not. She already had problems to deal with, and she was certain that associating with Athrun Zala could be more trouble than what it was worth. Besides, aside from her work and her nagging father, she still had that clingy ex-boyfriend to deal with. She had no time for another man in her life, her sex life be damned.

With a resolute nod, she sat up straight and waited for the meeting to be over, looking as proper and professional as her cut-off shorts and faded sweater would allow. But she didn't have to wait long because as soon as she checked her watch, the doorknob gave its distinctive rattle, and the door opened not long after. She made a face before she could hold herself, but she schooled her features just as both men turned to regard her.

"Ah, yes, Cagalli," Uzumi addressed her, "Athrun is the acting chief executive of the Justice make. Since he's in the country for a business merging, he's generously decided to meet with me himself. For that car I promised you, I've asked him to accommodate your demands in case you're interested in having the car customized."

Cagalli bit the inside of her lower lip to keep her from telling her father that he talked like she had already agreed with his arrangement. "About that, Father, may I talk with you in private?" She turned to Athrun. "If you can excuse us, Mr. Zala?"

"Of course," Athrun easily agreed. "I can show myself out." He extended his hand towards Uzumi, and the old man shook the offered appendage just as Kisaka entered the floor.

"Ah, Kisaka, show Athrun out, will you?"

Kisaka looked as surprised as Mana to see Cagalli, but he nodded at Uzumi's order. "Of course. This way, Mr. Zala," he directed the last part at Athrun. "Nice to have you back, Cagalli," he added.

"Good day, Uzumi, Ms. Cagalli."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Zala," Cagalli replied, refusing to look him in the eye.

Athrun nodded before following Kisaka, and when the two of them were out of earshot, Cagalli fully turned towards Uzumi. "I see you've taken the liberty of arranging my car deals by yourself, Father."

Uzumi lowered his head and dropped a kiss on Cagalli's brow, more like a force of habit than an affectionate gesture towards his errant daughter. Cagalli couldn't really tell. She had disobeyed him for so long that she wasn't sure just how much longer her father would tolerate her behavior. She knew Uzumi wouldn't disown her and that he loved her just as he always had before, but she also knew that her father wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. And right now, he wanted her home, working in his company, and acting as though she was still underage and should be following his orders.

"Of course, Cagalli. It makes sense that a father does his only daughter a few favors." He walked past her, giving the impression that he believed Cagalli would follow even if he hadn't asked her to.

Cagalli gritted her teeth, but followed nonetheless. If this was the only way she could get him to listen to her, then so be it. "I don't need those favors, Father. I am well capable on my own. If you'd only take time to notice, I was able to afford my own car."

"I've noticed. A Mazda6, if I'm not mistaken. A good car, yes," he replied, his dignified footfalls echoing in the empty hallway, and if Cagalli didn't know better, she'd think he was hedging. "But you could have a better means of transportation if you'd chosen to work for the company."

"That's not the point. The poi —"

"Of course, it's the point. I've offered you a good position because you'd be inheriting the company one day, and you chose to go gallivanting on your own. I am very tempted to call that irresponsible."

Cagalli rolled her eyes behind her father's back. "Then call it that by all means. I told you I don't want the company!" she exclaimed, knowing that everything would lead to that if she took what he offered. "I'm not meant to sit behind a desk all day and sign documents upon documents! I want to write! Be an author! Explore the world to find inspiration for a book!"

Uzumi looked at her over his shoulder, then opened the door leading to their very own cocktail lounge. "Then why are you merely a secretary at a magazine company? Isn't that _sitting behind a desk, signing documents upon documents_?" he observed astutely, borrowing her daughter's words to use them against her.

Cagalli was struck speechless. She was supposed to defend her situation, not be questioned about it. Here she was, trying to prove a point and trying to grate on her father's nerves, but he didn't even flinch as she stood up for herself, not to mention that he barely gave what she was wearing a second glance.

"Yes, Cagalli? Where have you traveled to look for that inspiration you're speaking of?" Uzumi poured himself some scotch, taking a sip from his glass as he studied his daughter.

"No where _yet_. I'm still saving up for that. And no, I won't be working for you to earn enough money for my future traveling expenses," she finally found her voice.

"It's been a year since you started working there, and where has it gotten you?"

"It's not easy climbing the ladder of success, Father." She had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes in front of Uzumi.

"It would have, had you not let your stubbornness get the better of you. You can work in our company and still be a writer, Ms. Athha."

Cagalli hated being called 'Ms. Athha' by her father. It had always felt like she'd already lost the argument whenever he addressed her that way. "I already told you, I don't want to work in that company of yours. You'd be breathing down my neck, and that's gonna be a hell lot stifling." This time, she gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. Really, couldn't her father get it? She didn't want to work for him, plain and simple.

"I'll make you a deal, Cagalli," her father began, fixing her steady gaze that brooked no argument.

"I don't wa—"

"You'd do well to listen to me first before you say no, Ms. Athha."

Cagalli gritted her teeth. She wasn't a kid anymore, and here was her father, trying to undo all the things she'd established for herself by treating her like a child. She hated it.

She bit down the immediate reply that had formed at the tip of her tongue.

"It won't be too bad. I get what I want, and you get what you want after that. That can't be too unfavorable a deal."

The blonde puckered her forehead in obvious skepticism. "Fine, let's hear you out."

"Listen well then." Uzumi smiled.

**o-o**

Cagalli let the chopsticks linger on her lips as she half-listened to her friend. She was back in her apartment, and Miriallia had come over again that night with some Chinese takeouts, instinctively knowing that the blonde would refuse to have dinner at their stately mansion and would instead opt to go home with an empty stomach.

"So, you get the apartment and the wheels?"

"Yeah," she mumbled with an abject concealment of her almost palpable tedium. She reached out her chopsticks almost mechanically and retrieved a shrimp dumpling from the polystyrene container.

"I was hoping for a more enthusiastic reply. Just thought I'd tell you," Miriallia said, her sarcasm at her friend's lack of candor quite evident.

"You know what, for some reason, I feel like I've gotten the raw end of the bargain," Cagalli finally allowed a little life into her speech.

"How do you figure?"

"Well, the old man has this talent of making me agree to something that I, at first, think is more beneficial for me."

"Your lack of trust in your father is astounding." Miriallia chewed on a dumpling thoughtfully. "Where's the papa's girl I knew?"

Cagalli almost snorted. Miriallia didn't know her as a child, simply because they had met the first time at the office. Though, she had to admit, she found it amusing that Miriallia almost always chided her like they'd been childhood friends. "We were twenty-four when we first met, Mir."

"That's not the point."

Cagalli laughed, her discontent almost seeping off her. She'd been more than annoyed the moment she drove out of her father's estate. Her father had talked, and she'd listened, just as he commanded her to. His words had made sense, and it seemed like a fair deal back then, too. All she had to do was work for him for the next nine months — that would mean that she would have to retire from her current job, which was quite a soothing thought since the other secretary would be permanently out of her hair. Not to mention that she'd finally get her father to shut up.

Nine months at his father's company would be paid in advance with an apartment at the Upper East Side, a Justice, and a starting salary that would make saving easier. It seemed fair, all right, but now that she had thought about it without having to listen to her father's convincing speech, she'd be sacrificing her principles — those same principles that she'd worked hard to make apparent to those around her. She'd be reneging on her promise to herself and to the vow she'd made to her father that she wouldn't ever work for him. That vow had once been voiced out with the influence of hard-knocked defiance, and she had lived up to it….that is, until she left the cocktail lounge with her head down like a beaten puppy.

Remembering her earlier thoughts caused a frown to betide her recovering optimism.

"Stop frowning and enjoy the things you'd get in return for sacrificing a little of your pride!"

"Tsk!" Cagalli glared at her friend. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're happy because you know you get to share my loot."

"Of course," Miriallia answered, sounding like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Cagalli sighed and put away her now-empty box of rice. "I guess I have to write my resignation letter, huh? Damn, and I gotta start packing."

"I'm not too busy. I'll help you pack!" Miriallia enthused.

"You're more excited than I am." Cagalli rolled her eyes.

"Well, someone has got to be excited! I'll be sure to be too much of that for the both of us," Miriallia easily answered, making Cagalli laugh again. "Oh, you know what, you should really be excited about working at your father's company."

Cagalli arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I've been there. It's heaven. Lots of young and sexy executives!" Miriallia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Cagalli shook her head, but grinned nonetheless. And just as she thought about what Miriallia revealed, she couldn't help but remember one certain sexy executive at another company. Oh, they'd be getting to see more of each other, all right. What was she thinking when she told herself that she wouldn't ever be seeing Athrun Zala again? She should have known that, upon throwing her father in the mix, she and Athrun were less likely to never cross paths again.

Another frown threatened to steal over her features. He was just the kind of man that practically had trouble written all over him, finished with flashing neon lights that should serve as ample warning. She hadn't recognized him that night — he wasn't on her A-list, but she supposed Sheila, the other secretary, was handling him — but now that her father had introduced him, she could easily place him. She had heard of Athrun Zala before, the most eligible bachelor after he'd broken off his engagement with Lacus Clyne, and she'd read articles upon articles about how women fell at his feet, but she was different. She wasn't attracted to his so-called "man of the year" charm. And, to justify her behavior that night, she'd just had one too many glasses of alcohol to even think straight.

She certainly didn't need more complications in her life. She was determined to keep their meetings professional, and, surely, he'd want to keep them that way, too. After all, what did one-night stands usually leave to the participants? Nothing but the good old "let's leave it at that" attitude and the memory of a bad judgment. It didn't make the sinners want to be involved with each other. No, she didn't think it worked that way.

Cagalli finally allowed a small smile to play at the corners of her mouth. Maybe things weren't that bad. If she were lucky, she'd be able to accomplish all that needed to be accomplished and still leave with her dignity and pride intact. Looking at her situation in a different perspective, her father's proposition might just be the stepping stone she needed to finally get a move on in her professional life. She wouldn't let the recollection of a mistake hinder her from achieving the plans that had begun brewing in her head.

_Nope, not a chance!_

**o-o**

Athrun sank into the soft leather of the lazy boy before pulling the lever to raise the feet support, closing his eyes as he finally had time to relax after a long day. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, then he opened those emerald orbs and surveyed his surroundings. He'd been housed at the Freedom Metropolis the first two days of his stay before the company he worked for rented a decent apartment where he could live for the rest of his business visit. He couldn't really complain. Although the hotel had an amazing room service, it was still a hotel no matter how cozy his room had been. This apartment he was currently occupying felt much more comfortable, more private, and a house helper arrived every morning to clean, so he was content.

Picking up the _Times_ from the table beside him, he cursorily studied the picture in front. It was of a familiar man he'd known for the longest time. Not exactly wanting to be reminded of that person, he skimmed through the contents, stopping at pages containing articles that caught his attention.

He was in the middle of an article about the latest Justice when his mobile phone rang, the non-intrusive ringing tone a smooth cadence in the otherwise silent room.

"Zala."

"_Hey, Athrun! I've heard you're in Orb. I'm sorry I didn't get in touch as soon."_

Athrun smiled at the melodious voice on the line. "Good evening to you, too, Lacus. Kira's told me you haven't returned yet." Lacus' voice had always had a comforting quality, a familiarity that bred easiness, each changing lilt almost mirroring her even disposition and positive temperament. It was one of the things that made him unable to stay angry at her for long, even after their much-publicized break-up. He'd long ago acknowledged that he and the Songstress were no longer owners of hearts beating with the same tune, but Lacus would always have a soft spot in his heart.

"_A little busy, yes, but I'll be going home tomorrow. Have you and Kira seen each other?"_

Athrun laughed. "Of course, Lacus."

"_Good! I was thinking you'd be too busy to meet up with friends. You better be there when Kira picks me up at the airport!"_

Kira had already made him swear he'd be there, so Lacus really didn't have to worry about anything. Besides, he'd promised to himself that he'd keep in touch with his long-time friends in the long duration of his stay in Orb. "Yes, I'll be there."

Lacus giggled. "_You better be. Oh yeah, I've been wanting to ask, met anyone new lately? And I didn't mean those adoring fans of yours."_

Athrun detected the teasing in her voice, and he chuckled at the playful tone of his ex-fiancée. Did he meet anyone new? Oh, yes he did, and he'd shared his bed with her even before he knew her name. Not only that, but he'd been unwittingly guaranteed meetings with her during his stay in Orb. She was different, he was sure, because she hadn't seemed to know him that night at the hotel lounge. She'd left his room with no complaints, either, clearly distinguishing the line between them and establishing that what they'd shared was nothing more than a casual romp in bed that wasn't going to happen again. When they'd met once more this morning, she hadn't seemed inclined to get to know him, almost refusing to acknowledge his presence. He'd dismissed her from his mind after their escapade, but seeing her again and noticing how she'd acted around him, she'd gotten his attention. Now he was interested. Now he wanted her, and what he wanted, he got.

"Do old, boring, business executives count?"

Lacus sighed. _"I'll take that as a no."_ Athrun could almost imagine her shaking her head at the tone of her voice. _"Anyway, Athrun, I just called to say hi. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, all right?"_

"Yes."

"_Good. Hugs, Athrun."_

"Bye," he replied, waiting for Lacus to hang up before he clicked off his phone. _Anyone new, all right, and she wasn't one of my 'adoring fans.'_ Athrun ran a hand through his hair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _Cagalli, was it?_

**x-x-x-x-x**

Not the most original of plots, but let's see if I can make it really interesting for you guys, all right?


	4. III: The One With The Phone Call

Title: Play of the Fates (3 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Three**_

Cagalli had handed in her resignation letter two weeks ago, and today, she was at the end of her two-week's notice. She'd be entering a new lobby come tomorrow; she'd be sitting behind a different desk; and she'd be greeting new faces and trying to adjust to her new job. It sounded so easy in her head, but she knew better. She wouldn't be some nameless employee at a renowned company — she'd be introduced as Uzumi's daughter right off the bat, and being the big boss' heiress would surely make it hard for her to find new friends who wouldn't just be involved with her superficially. She'd be facing ass-kissers, and she'd be damned if she couldn't recognize one easily. It was a good thing she took a breather from her sheltered life in the Athha mansion for it sharpened her.

Cagalli listlessly pressed the elevator button that would take her down to the basement parking lot where her car was deposited. She would miss this place, she knew, even if not everyone was agreeable. She knew this turf; she was familiar with the people, the halls­­­­­­­, the do's and don't's, and although she only worked as a secretary, she was a secretary in the best department.

Working for the PR department brought about new and unexplored horizons for her. She had gotten to know the right people, had mingled with the A-list, and the heads of the other departments envied her contacts. But now she had given up her job for another. Sure, her job at the magazine publishing house wasn't what she originally wanted, but it had grown on her, and — she allowed a semi-sardonic smile to be comfortable on her lips — she could even go as far as saying that it had changed her. Back when she was the spoilt princess of the Athha household, she couldn't care less about her social life because she knew she could get anything she wanted, but after working in this office and getting lucky, she'd expanded her connections, broadened her social activities, and that had solidified her belief that she was finally able to stand on her own. She knew people Uzumi didn't, and even if her job weren't as fabulous as some might believe — and aside from her constant complaints about the other secretary — she really didn't have much to gripe about.

The elevator dinged, and a man in Versace stepped in. "Cagalli." It was her boss, or, more appropriately, her formerboss. "I know I'm not the most pleasant of bosses, but you're ditching me?"

Cagalli chuckled openly, giving him a friendly, though unprofessional, hug. "Oh, Matt, if you've offered me a raise, I wouldn't have to move!"

Cagalli's boss had always acted more like a friend to his staff than a padrone. She hadn't expected that since he had seemed so stern and distant when she first met him.

Matthew Atwood was a good-looking man in his early-forties, with carefully mussed-up hair, an ever-present five o'clock shadow, and a lady-killer grin. He was one of those white-collared bachelors that had enough going for them, but still not enough to tie them officially to one woman.

A little snooping around on her part — with Miriallia's help — and she'd learnt that he had been previously engaged, only to have the engagement called off later on when he and his fiancée realized they just weren't the marrying type. It was a clean, harmless, friendly break-up that was almost always unheard of. And while she never felt ashamed about putting her nose in his business, she had belatedly felt that that measly piece of information didn't really serve a particular purpose in her life. She stuck her nose in another person's business because of a fairly decent excuse: she used to have a crush on Matt. And as she wasn't very professional in her work relationships back then, a little gossiping about her boss didn't send her on guilt trips. But as she worked on her office skills, and as they both progressed in their professional relationship, that crush had waned and disappeared, leaving Cagalli a fond memory of their first meeting. She'd told him of it, and he'd teased her incessantly about it, too, like how men were expected to, and they'd had a good time laughing at how silly they were acting.

She'd miss Matt for sure.

He laughed and hugged her back. "We'll miss you."

"I'm not so sure that Sheila would," Cagalli replied, though she wasn't exactly being bitter towards the other secretary. Now that she'd resigned, it was all water under the bridge, at least for her. "She's always been competitive."

"As have you."

Cagalli rolled her eyes. "You really should be siding with me since I'm the one you're with now."

Matt laughed. "But _you're_ the one leaving me."

Cagalli harrumphed. "Point."

"Say, as a parting gesture, why don't I treat you to dinner?"

"You know, Matt, if you'd said that during the time I started working for you, I might have swooned."

"You can still swoon now," he grinned at her.

The blonde rolled her eyes again. She briefly wondered if the security operating the surveillance camera inside the elevator car thought they were flirting, and she inwardly smirked. It didn't matter. She was stepping out of this office and wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Besides, Matt was a friend, and friends were allowed to participate in casual and innocuous flirting.

"So?" he asked, pressing the button for the second basement parking lot.

"Sure. I don't turn down free food. But are you _sure_ you know whom you're inviting?" she grinned when Matt looked amused. "Let me just tell you that I'm not a salad girl."

"Salad girl? Am I old that I don't even know what a 'salad girl' is?"

Cagalli breezily waved a hand. "Oh, you know, those girls who guys take to expensive, fancy restaurants and just order a salad." She gave him a once-over. "You don't look old. Just a few shots of botox here and there needed. But not old."

Matt favored Cagalli a hearty laugh as they waited for the elevator doors to close after stopping at Cagalli's previous destination. "I never thought you were a salad girl."

"That's plenty good to hear, Matt," Cagalli smiled.

**o-o**

Having dinner with Matt was everything Cagalli expected, and she wasn't disappointed to note that he was how she had imagined him to be: a suave bachelor who knew how to work his charms to get what he wanted. As proof, they were currently occupying one of the best tables at Tavern City — a debuting bar and restaurant in downtown Orb that had a stringent guest list which didn't have their names on it.

"You know what, I've never had crawfish before," Cagalli offhandedly steered to another topic as she finished her meal.

"Never? I once overheard you and Ms. Haw talking of this dinner you had at The Casa. They offer the best crawfish." He leant closer and whispered conspiratorially, "The one they serve here doesn't even come close."

Cagalli laughed. "You shouldn't talk bad of a place you wouldn't be in if the girl by the door didn't have a crush on you." She made a face, jerking her thumb at the general direction of the door.

"She doesn't have a crush on me. I just know how to _charm _her."

Cagalli rolled her eyes. "Whatever. _Anyway_, I usually order safe food."

"Hn."

She shrugged. "You know, food I know I'd like. I'm not much of a fish…junkie…eater…whatever_­­_," she paused to shake her head at the humor Matt apparently found in her choice of words. "Besides, you're here to pay even if the food didn't turn out to be very…_palatable_."

Their waiter removed the empty dishes from their table, and Cagalli ordered another Cosmopolitan while Matt refreshed his Black Russian.

"So, you haven't told me the reason behind your resignation," Matt broached another subject.

"I furnished a resignation letter, didn't I? I suppose you read it since you allowed my termination of employment."

Matt grinned at her. "Yes, you're resigning because of a conflict of interest with a commitment prior your employment at _Orb Aesthete_, I believe it was?"

Cagalli mockingly glared at him. "I hear heavy sarcasm."

"Thank you," Matt addressed the waiter when he returned with their requested beverages. "It's because it's laden with lots of it," he directed at Cagalli.

"Fine, fine," Cagalli chuckled. "Jeez, does _anything_ get by you?"

"Not much. It's why I call the shots."

Cagalli shook her head. "It's really a familial matter, and I prefer not to talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

Matt shrugged. "All right. Fair enough. Maybe I should have fired you instead of letting you off that easily. Lying in your resignation letter," he clucked his tongue in a teasing manner.

"Matt!" She giggled. "You know everyone lies in their résumés and resignation letters." She took a sip of her cocktail then shifted in her seat, enjoying the atmosphere of the newly opened establishment.

When she let her gaze wander back to the man in front of her, she was slightly puzzled to notice him with his head slightly raised, seemingly looking for someone over her shoulder. A little curious about his behavior, she nonchalantly looked behind her, but saw no one she was well-acquainted with.

"Hey," she called his attention.

"Oh, sorry. I thought I saw someone I—" he cut himself off as he appeared to have finally spotted a familiar face among the crowd. He raised a hand in greeting when whom he was searching for spotted him, too, and the name that slipped off his tongue almost made Cagalli choke on her cocktail, "Athrun!"

She whipped her head to catch a sight of him, but Athrun didn't seem to have noticed her yet. Then she hastily took her eyes off him when he started moving towards them.

"Matt Atwood. Fancy seeing you here," Athrun spoke with a friendly casualness that could only be bred from a friendship that had an ample time to grow. He stood by their table and shook hands with Cagalli's former boss.

"I was having dinner with an associate," Matt motioned towards Cagalli, and Athrun finally landed his eyes on the blonde sitting across their common friend.

"Athrun, this is—"

"Cagalli," Athrun uttered, a flicker of recognition igniting in his emerald orbs.

Matt seemed surprised. "I see you know each other."

Cagalli off-guardedly eyed the hand Athrun offered, which was slanted in a way that didn't propose a handshake. She tentatively smiled up at him, placing her hand in his, and she was again surprised when he made to take her hand like he was asking her to dance, gave it a gentle squeeze, then let go.

"We're just having drinks. Why don't you sit down and join us?" Before Athrun could answer, Matt had already signaled the waiter to add another chair to their table.

"I'll have a Godfather," Athrun replied when the waiter prompted him for drinks.

Cagalli just knew that that wasn't a handshake, for if it were, he would have shaken hands with Matt the same way, which, now that she thought about it, would have been a disturbing sight to see. That had to mean something else, but she couldn't be too sure because right now, Athrun didn't seem to even be paying her any special notice. He was amicably chatting with her former boss about how the other had been, their jobs, and how each of them had wound up in this restaurant with him just having finished dinner with two close friends. She, on the other hand, was left in anagrams. She didn't know if she would be offended that he seemed to have ignored the fact that they knew each other in a different sense, or be relieved that he wasn't outwardly showing signs of being extra familiar with her.

This was why she didn't do one-night stands. In theory, it would be awkward if they ever met again, and in practice, it was more than awkward — it was downright mortifying. She didn't want not knowing how to act around people, and this was just one of those few nightmares she had to live out.

Cagalli took an emergency swig of her cocktail, hoping that her mind was just exaggerating about her current condition.

"So, how do you two know each other?" Matt asked.

For some reason, that question made her all the more queasy inside. Meeting him twice in the same month after they had not-so-innocently cavorted was not her idea of fun, especially when their meetings had all been accidental. Accidental _and_ hard to get out of. If this were some sort of cosmic karma, then she knew she had done something irreparably wrong in her past life.

"Her father is an associate of mine," Athrun smoothly provided a safe answer, which was sort of true anyway.

Despite herself, Cagalli was impressed. She hadn't missed his surprised look the first time they had faced each other after that night, but now he seemed totally composed, not missing a beat when acknowledging her and answering Matt's question.

"We were introduced through him."

"Oh, is that right. The little darling dazzled you the first time you met her, I'd wager," Matt grinned, obviously paying Cagalli a compliment.

She smiled at him, slightly shaking her head at Matt's incorrigible humor. "Adulation is undue, Matt."

"You," Athrun began, "can put it that way."

Cagalli felt like whacking him in the head — along with wanting the earth to open up and swallow her whole — for playing with his words. It wasn't as if Matt knew what little history she and Athrun shared, but her thoughts were dictating her reactions, and as much as she didn't appreciate being affected by his indifferent answers — which, in the first place, she thought of as double-entendres — she couldn't just tell Athrun off. Not only would it be uncouth and crass, but it would also be very weird for the three of them: for Matt, who was ignorant of their real first meeting; for Athrun, who, for all she knew, wasn't really insinuating anything; and for her, who was letting her thoughts run off.

"Damn straight," she finally put in, deciding to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that had settled at the back of her mind.

The three of them laughed, and for a split second, Cagalli thought Athrun glanced at her just a tad too longer than was necessary.

Cagalli blinked, and Athrun was back to chatting with Matt. Maybe it was her imagination.

**o-o-o-o**

"_How's your first day?"_ Miriallia asked over the phone.

"Aside from my old man's introduction of me — which, let me tell you, had me feeling awkward until now — things have been pretty uneventful," Cagalli answered, sifting through a file folder her own secretary had handed her. It was such a nice change to have a secretary instead of being one; she didn't have to answer calls all day, and she could screen those she wanted to talk to without having to think up an excuse for herself.

"_Did you wear the pantsuit I told you to wear?"_

Cagalli was befuddled. "What?"

"_The pantsuit I recommended you to wear on your first day, did you wear it?"_

"And _you're_ supposed to be making sense because…?"

Miriallia clucked her tongue at Cagalli's sarcasm. _"It's supposed to make your day…_eventful_."_

Cagalli carefully placed the yellow folder on top of the stack she'd finished going through. She was handling the PR firm of her father's business empire, and she had been very relieved when he'd told her about it since it was the kind of work she was familiar with. "How does that figure?" she asked, confused.

"_How many new friends have you made?"_

"Aside from my invisible friend?" Cagalli made a funny face. "You're confusing me."

"_I meant: how many new_ male _friends have you made?"_

"Miriallia!" Cagalli bit her lip to cut off the scandalized pitch in her voice. "What's the suit got to do with _that_?" she exclaimed.

"_Remember that night we went out with Damien? That crazy night at the bistro?"_

"What of it?" Cagalli thought back. Damien was her and Miriallia's gay friend who loved to drag them to the hippest and trendiest places on a Friday night. He also claimed to be her fashion guru because, according to him, she needed one so badly if she wanted to fit in with the A-list guests she invited to the _Orb Aesthete _parties. She'd told him that she was a practical woman and that she had no use for party clothes, but he'd dismissed her concern with a flippant wave of his hand and taken her shopping for stylish suits that mixed sophistication, business, and the latest style, accommodating her practical needs and his party attitude.

Cagalli shook her head at their friend's perceived autocracy.

Miriallia sighed exasperatedly on the other end of the line. _"Really, Cagalli. Remember how many times you've been hit on by cute guys?"_

Cagalli rolled her eyes. "It's not something I gladly recall." It wasn't one of Cagalli's fondest memories. On the other hand, Damien had a blast that night, pushing her to dance with some of the guys who had walked up to her and introduced themselves. If he weren't so pushy, and if she had been in the mood to squabble with him over his audacious ideas, she'd have saucily turned down every offer. But, as the case had been, she owed him a favor for accompanying her, when Miriallia was unavailable, to Onogoro to scout for a place to hold one of _Orb Aesthete's_ launching parties on that side of Orb, so she didn't have the right — as he'd so cleverly put it — to argue with him.

"_You were wearing those hip-huggers, and Damien was happier than a kid on Christmas!"_

Cagalli glared at the ear piece as if it could somehow transmit her icy stare to her brunette friend. "I didn't accept this job to be hit on, Miriallia Haw."

"_I know, I know! But it'll make making acquaintances easier! And more fun!"_

"Miriallia!" Miriallia laughed heartily at her outburst, but Cagalli wasn't amused. "I'm hanging up."

"_No, No! Wait!"_

"Bye," Cagalli said with finality, but her austere tone didn't lessen Miriallia's chuckles. She hung up. "Crazy girl," she muttered.

Cagalli glanced at the wall clock above the door: 4:00. She still had an hour to go before she could slip out of the office without attracting the attention of her father for leaving too early. She had reviewed all the files of the former officer in-charge of the PR department, whose position she now possessed. She had run over the multiple guest lists the company kept, and she had made note of whom to add, whom to delete, and whom to keep. She'd made the proper calls, and since it was just her first day, the workload wasn't too heavy. She was done the moment she hung up on Miriallia, and the temptation to up and leave the office was beginning to be harder to resist with each passing second.

Swiveling her chair, she clicked the mouse to awaken her computer, immediately checking her lotus notes to see if there were office memos being circulated. Upon landing on the first office memo on her system, she hastily deleted it. She didn't fancy reading the memo about her being new to the company and taking over the Public Relations Department like she was born to head it. She just knew her father would put her in this high position, and although she appreciated the favor, she didn't like having to hear people gossip about how she was only in this position because of her father and not because she was capable of fulfilling her duties as a department head.

Scrolling over the new messages, she glanced at the digital time on the bottom right of the screen: 4:30 PM. She grimaced at how time passed so slowly. She already wanted to go home, soak in the tub, order Chinese, and eat in front of the television, watching the news for a few minutes then surfing the channels until she found a program that suited her.

Before she could reach for her third cup of coffee that afternoon, her intercom buzzed, disrupting the silent air in her office.

"Yes?" she answered, pressing the button to talk.

"_A Mister Athrun Zala on the line, Ms. Athha,"_ her secretary's voice rang out.

Cagalli was startled out of her boredom. Why was he calling her? And more importantly, how did he get her number?

"_Ms. Athha?"_

"Ah, yes, put him through."

"_Will I link him to the video phone?"_

Cagalli covered her mouth before she could scream _No_. "I'll take an ordinary phone call."

"_Yes, Ms. Athha."_

Cagalli waited for the beep before retrieving the mouthpiece from the cradle. "Yes, Mr. Zala?" she kept a professional tone even when she was inwardly trying to guess the purpose of his call.

"_Good afternoon to you, too, Cagalli."_

His informal greeting made her chew on her bottom lip. Were they friends now? Was that night at Tavern City a signpost that they were on first-name basis? As far as she was concerned, they were only being friendly for Matt's sake. One just didn't act cozy with one's one-night stand partner.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Zala?"

Athrun chuckled at the other end. _"If you like to keep it that way, it's fine with me. I'll still address you as Cagalli."_ Cagalli only hummed her acknowledgement. _"Anyway, about your father's purchase of your personal Justice, he forgot to give me your preferences."_

"Is there anyone I can meet with to discuss this over?"

"_That would be me. Uzumi has personally assigned your automobile acquisition to me. This way, it will be easier to make transactions should you have a change of mind or personal customizations you want to the Justice."_

"You can make it easier for me?" Cagalli couldn't pull back the astonishment in her pitch fast enough.

Athrun chuckled again, causing Cagalli to flinch. _"Yes. Being the acting CEO of the Genesis Motors here in Orb does have its privileges."_

"Oh," she paused. "Oh." Truth be told, she was amazed. She had thought that her father was meeting with just a representative of the Genesis Motors, only to find out this afternoon that he was the head of the company. By accepting her father's offer, she was led to make business with a power-wielder businessman whom she had also spent a night with. Even if it would just be a short transaction, as it would only be her own car she would be dealing with, it still sent an uncomfortable jolt in her stomach.

"_I have a busy schedule, as have you, I'm sure, so let's make quick work of this. Why don't we meet for lunch next week? Next week, Monday? My lunch hour is free."_

Cagalli cursorily skimmed over her schedule in her electronic planner, which she had updated the moment her secretary was able to book her the appointments she needed to make. "So is mine," she answered the implied question.

"_I'll have my secretary call your secretary for the arrangement."_

She nodded even though he couldn't see her.

"_I'll see you then, Cagalli,"_ he replied, and she briefly wondered if he somehow knew that she was nodding.

The line went dead, and Cagalli was suddenly horrified to realize what she had just set up. Not only did she allow herself to transact her business with him directly, but she'd allowed for them to meet. Again. Something she didn't want to ever happen once more since day one.

Cagalli fought the urge to bang her head on her desktop. She had really done a good job in screwing herself over.

**x-x-x-x-x**


	5. IV: The One With The Sparks

Title: Play of the Fates (4 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of my previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Four**_

Cagalli found herself being ushered towards a quaint, open-air, patio-type café at the back of Genesis Motors at half-past nine. Athrun's secretary had called her secretary that their meeting was moved because he had a sudden important conference to attend at lunch, which would have thrown her own schedule off if she actually had a full timetable. _Of all the days I could have a great amount of free time, it had to be today._ She cursed her rotten luck.

Sighing and resisting the urge to childishly stomp her foot, she walked over an empty table and ordered a drink once a waiter walked up to her. And when she had her breakfast mimosa in hand, she took a sip and immediately felt a little better. Detachedly, she wondered why there was always alcohol present whenever she would meet him, but it was nine-thirty in the morning and she was a in a place she didn't want to be in, so she figured a little morning cocktail wouldn't hurt. _Besides, no one gets drunk over mimosa._

"Have my secretary file this for me. I'd like to run over this again later."

Cagalli looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Athrun talking to a younger man whom she decided was a messenger. She disinterestedly watched him from where she was seated, cursorily taking notice of how he carried himself, all confident in the manner he spoke, gestured, and returned the brief greetings of the other people who passed him by. She briefly noted how he seemed comfortable in the way he moved, and, although she didn't particularly like him, she admitted he looked good in the forest green turtleneck he had on under his black sports jacket, along with the wool pants he was sporting.

Taking another sip of her mimosa, she averted her gaze, squinting behind her sunglasses when the early morning sunlight glinted off a steel tray one of the waiters was carrying. Athrun was one of the few men she wouldn't mind seeing if they hadn't met the way they did, and for some unnamed reason, he slightly made her want to get back to the dating market in the hopes of encountering another heaven-sent face — he was a good looking man, she would give him that. Technically, she was currently unattached, but because she tended to wave away members of the opposite sex who showed the littlest interest in her lately, she might as well have come up with an imaginary boyfriend that prevented her from dating other men.

"Yes, sir." The messenger waited for Athrun to finish signing whatever needed to be signed before walking away.

When she heard the messenger wishing Athrun a good day, she returned her attention to them but immediately looked another way when she noticed him striding over her table. She hated being caught looking, even when she knew inside her that she wasn't keenly interested in what she was looking at.

"Good morning," he greeted upon pulling out a chair for himself.

"Good morning," she greeted back, allowing herself to smile since it was a beautiful morning despite her wishing she were somewhere else.

"Breakfast?" he asked, but before she could reply, a waitress was already waiting on them. "I'll have the eggs benedict and a cup of coffee. Black." He turned towards Cagalli. "Anything you want?"

Cagalli handed the waitress her empty flute of mimosa after skimming through the menu. "Sausage, and eggs, and blueberry scones."

"How would you like your eggs, ma'am?" the waitress asked, jotting down her order.

"Poached. And I'll have another glass of mimosa."

When the waitress disappeared to fetch their orders, Athrun openly chuckled at her, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. "Anything distinctly funny?"

He shook his head. "It's too early to be drinking."

"It's orange juice."

"_With_ champagne."

"When do you expect anyone to drink breakfast mimosas? During dinner?"

"You don't have to sound so hostile," he sounded amused.

Cagalli glared at him, though she indifferently wondered if he could see it behind the dark lenses of her YSL metal frames. "I wasn't being hostile!" She quickly bit her lower lip after that, afraid that she might spout off something ruder if she didn't try to stop herself. "Anyway, about my transaction—"

"It's too early for that, too," he cut her off.

"No, it's not. _You_ were doing business when you came here."

"I wasn't. I was bossing my people around." He let a lazy smile play on his lips.

A dash of red siphoned through her cheeks, either from some inexplicable embarrassment or something else being triggered by that smile. "I have a very busy schedule, you know. It would help some if we start business now."

Their preferred beverages arrived, and Athrun hooked a finger around the ear of his coffee cup. "Have you? Your secretary assured mine that you have a pretty open page today." He took a careful sip of the hot liquid without taking his eyes off her.

"What does she know?" she hurriedly covered. "You know, _Athrun_," she began again, using his given name caustically, "some of us have better things to do and couldn't just be stuck _here_ waiting for the likes of you take up our time."

Athrun didn't take the bait. "Say, those are very nice sunglasses," he digressed, his tone implying that she take them off.

"I know. And I plan to have them on this whole morning," she replied, gritting her teeth at his apparent attempt to shift their conversation. "I don't like looking directly at you." She inwardly berated herself. That was low. What she planned, really, was to get out of this supposed business meeting with her dignity intact, and that meant being the adult in their conversations. With a cheap shot like that, she was sure she wasn't looking very professional right now.

Athrun only grinned at her. "Don't be rude, Cagalli."

"I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant," she flippantly countered.

He gazed at her with half-lidded eyes. "Am I?"

Cagalli had to look away. She hated how he could make his simplest answer sound like it meant something else. She busied herself with cutting her sausages into manageable pieces, inclined to shut her mouth and wait for him to talk.

She was halfway through her scones and still Athrun remained silent, seemingly fine with keeping a pregnant silence between them. She stole a glance from the corner of her eye to see if, by chance, he was getting ready to say something, only to notice him perfectly comfortable with keeping his thoughts to himself. She gritted her teeth. She hated tension-filled silences like this one. More so when it appeared as though she was the only one who could feel it.

She had to say something to dispel the quiet that reigned. Anything would do…

"Since we're being awkward and all—" she cut herself off, getting annoyed at the slow smile that was forming across his lips, quite telling her that his quiet was a game. "What are you smiling at _me_ for?"

"You're amusing, Ms. Athha. I didn't think we were being awkward at all."

Cagalli inwardly snarled. She snatched the sunglasses off her nose and proceeded to glare at him for all she was worth. She only realized her mistake when he settled back in his seat, followed her movement, and gazed back at her face. This was what he was trying to make her do just a little while ago, and she fell for it.

Again, that indolent smile. A tiny tingle went down her spine, and she knew she was blushing at the unexpected reaction.

"But go on."

She was eternally grateful that he didn't call her on it. How could this man in front of her make her blush just like that? It was incomprehensible, and she ought to put a stop to it. Right now, if the Fates would be so kind as to be on her side.

Cagalli cleared her throat. "About…" she faltered. She bit her lip hard, futilely trying to halt the red tint that was creeping up her cheeks. "About that one night," she tried again, "I was hoping we can forget about it."

"What night?"

"Let's not play ignorant here."

"What night?"

Cagalli didn't think he could forget that fateful night. It was the source of all her current embarrassment, and she was certain she had been the one too drunk that time and that he had been sober. He couldn't have forgotten, so why was he playing with her?

For the umpteenth time that morning, she glared at him, but he didn't appear mischievous, just a little confused, and that made her suddenly uncertain about him remembering that night she was talking about.

Athrun took a sip of his coffee and patiently waited to be answered.

Cagalli didn't know what to think then. He honestly seemed like he didn't know what she was referring to. Maybe he really didn't recognize her. Maybe she was reading his actions the wrong way. Maybe she was just being paranoid. And for all these confused feelings he evoked from her, one thing was clear: she was highly offended that he could actually forget her. She knew she wasn't the prettiest girl in Orb, she knew that she might not be his best lay, and she acknowledged that she had actually wanted him to never think back on that night, but no girl wanted to be forgotten.

Cagalli blew air through gritted teeth, then affected indifference as she waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. I must be mistaking you for someone else…"

Athrun shook his head. "Unlikely. I never get mistaken for someone else."

Cagalli gave an unlady-like snort. "There's a first for everything." She checked her watch. She had to be back in her office in thirty minutes, and she was scandalized to note that she hadn't gotten what she'd come here for. Her schedule was, indeed, quite open, but that was for the afternoon. She had a meeting to prepare for and attend in half an hour, and he didn't seem to care that he was wasting her time.

"It's impolite to be checking your watch while you're in a meeting with someone," he smoothly veered off-topic.

Cagalli's eyes widened. "I can't believe you said that!" She instantly bit her lip when she realized how loud her voice had been. "This isn't a meeting, excuse me. I wanted to transact business, but you wanted to waste my time. And now I have to leave, and I haven't accomplished anything!" She finished her mimosa and stuffed her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose.

"I planned for an appointment over lunch, but I have a conference to attend then. And I'm sorry that you were misinformed, but I didn't schedule this meeting to talk business. I merely wanted someone to accompany me for breakfast."

"_What?" _Cagalli felt like knocking that cocky grin off his face with a splash of very cold water, but he was already standing up, and she wasn't planning on being towered over.

"You've been great company, Ms. Athha."

_Oh, the jerk!_ Common decency prevented her from lunging at him and pulling at his hair. "Fuck you, Zala," but common decency didn't stop her from cursing him under her breath.

Cagalli was a little startled when Athrun stepped closer to her and ducked his head to whisper in her ear. It didn't take more than a second for her to get infuriated at his audacity, but she didn't want to cause a scene so she kept herself from shoving him away. What he whispered, however, made her want to throw caution to the wind and strangle him silly.

"That can be arranged."

Of course, she would want to strangle him until his ancestors flinched in their graves after she recovered from the onslaught of redness that stole across her face. He'd heard, and he was using her words against her. _Damn him._

"I'll set up a meeting next time," he breezily uttered, once again away at a safe distance. He signed the bill the waiter presented him, then he was walking away.

**o-o**

Cagalli fumed in the cab she was taking to her father's company. The jerk was playing games with her! All that time he knew what she'd been talking about, and he pretended he couldn't understand where she was getting at. She almost believed him, and that was acutely stupid on her part because the last time they met, his actions intimated that he hadn't forgotten. Of course, she could have just imagined all this — that Athrun had hinted at how they really met to other people to tease her — but to almost fall for the oldest trick in the book was out of character. She was incensed. She was indignant. She was experiencing a plethora of feelings akin to resentment. She was inwardly cursing with colorful profanities that she would have been ashamed of if she were actually delivering them out loud. And with much chagrin, she wondered why she had allowed him to leave unscathed. She didn't have to physically get back at him, but she should have done something to regain a bit of her dignity.

Cagalli distractedly viewed the passing scenery as she blew air through clenched teeth. She had never met a more frustrating man than him, and that was saying a lot since they had only met a handful of times since that night — thrice, to be exact. She wasn't prone to hating anyone in just a span of three meetings. She was pretty fair in giving people chances to change her first impression of them, if she could say so herself. But Athrun — he was just someone that could occupy her mind and easily boil her blood. Maybe she was born to hate him, but considering how they had spent their first night of getting acquainted, maybe she was born to sleep with him first then hate him for the rest of her life.

Grimacing at her dry humor, she clenched her hand, and only relaxed when she felt the piercing pressure of her fingernails against her palm. Maybe she was overreacting, but she could only think up one solution to get out of this mess. She'd always been the kid who faced her fears no matter the trouble she would get herself into later on, and if she knew herself well — and she did — that kid grew up but didn't lose even half of her foolhardy courage. She might regret what she was about to do in the very near future, especially since she'd be late for her meeting, but once she set her mind on doing something, she almost always made sure to have it accomplished, the consequences be damned.

"Excuse me?" she kindly interrupted the taxi driver after inhaling a cleansing breath, partly to gain a little perspective, and partly to understand that talking to the cab driver with her displeasure towards the recent event in the forefront of her mind wasn't such a good idea. She had dragged enough innocent people into her mess back when she was still very young, and they were enough to last her a lifetime. "Can you take me back to where I flagged you?"

The cab driver looked at her weirdly through the rearview mirror, which wasn't misplaced since they had gone a long way from where she had hailed the cab. Then he shrugged, hitting the lever to signal that he was making a turn. "'S'your jacks, lady."

Cagalli chose to ignore the look he had sent her. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

It was time to clear things a little bit.

**o-o**

Athrun ran a hand through his dark locks. That had been an interesting breakfast. More so than what he'd have had he decided to invite Lacus and Kira instead, he was certain. That Cagalli sure was something. She was just so darn expressive that if he'd run a show and only had her as the sole guest speaker everyday, people would have still raved about it. And if she had convinced herself that she was pretty adept at reining in her obvious outward reactions, then she'd make one hell of a liar.

Shuffling a few documents on his desk and preparing for a conference that he'd hold in less than two hours, he shook his head. He did admit to himself that he was attracted to her. She was cute in all accounts, not too mention that he'd gotten more than an innocent look of her. But the different thing was, he highly enjoyed pushing her buttons and teasing her senses whereas he hardly kidded around in his past relationships. Sure, he'd had his share of playfulness, but… He shook his head again, unable to find the right words to finish his current train of thought.

His intercom buzzed just as he sank into the soft leather of his high-backed swivel chair. It was without interest when he leant forward to press the receive button. "Yes?"

"_Mr. Zala,"_ the voice of his secretary floated silkily over the line. _"The CEOs of the other Genesis Motors companies are at the lobby."_

Athrun's brow furrowed. "They're early," he stated, much to confirm what his secretary said and just as much to imply a question about why they were so.

"_Yes, sir, but they're flight was moved to an earlier time, and they are asking if you could hold the meeting now before they settle in their hotel."_

If he had things going on at this moment, the presence of the chief executive officers would have caused a lot of trouble — they were important people, and he couldn't just brush them off that easily — but as his case was, he wasn't doing anything.

"Tell the receptionist to send them up. Is the conference room available?"

"_The one we first intended to use is still being occupied by Mr. Cramer and his staff."_

"Any room available?" Athrun opened a drawer to retrieve his flash drive.

"_The conference room down the hall."_

"That's the war room," he stated. He didn't like the idea of holding the meeting in the war room, not because it was inadequately equipped, but because he didn't particularly hold a high regard for that room. It was where they usually debated about car designs, engine manufacturers, and everything else that almost always turned into heated arguments whenever he was down on Earth to oversee the Genesis Motors in Orb. And, more often than not, the war room wasn't the tidiest area in the building.

His secretary remained silent, obviously not understanding what he meant.

"Never mind. I'll hold it here in my office." He cursorily surveyed his office and affirmed that it was big enough to house five more people. It was a good thing he wouldn't be meeting with all of the eleven people representing the other eleven companies at the PLANTs.

He cut off the communication before he even heard his secretary's reply. Standing up, he grabbed the remote for the projector off his desk and began to walk towards the equipment in his office to prepare for the meeting.

Not long after, there was a knock on his door, then the head of his secretary poked in to inform him that his party was here. He nodded and his secretary opened the heavy wood wider to let the five executives through.

After a few pleasantries, they ploughed through the documents and issues needed to be discussed, one of which, and was given high importance, was the sellout of the Nazca Corporation. If they could stomp their competition and get their hands on the corporation, they could expect a rise in their stocks and an increase in their output. It would upset their loss four years back when there had been a breach in their company and caused some inside information trading that hurt their business.

Athrun was in the middle of discussing a certain aspect of the sellout when his door banged open.

One of the things he hated was being disturbed while he was in a meeting, especially if it were because of something he didn't consider very important at the moment. And at the moment, the most important thing he was busying himself with was talking business with his colleagues.

He took a calming breath and turned to face the door to tell off his secretary for intruding upon his discussion when the least expected person appeared in his line of sight. His secretary was standing by the door, speechless and a little red in the face, while Cagalli paused to cast a perfunctory glance at his company before settling her marigold orbs on him.

He performed a quick mental calculation and found it safer to address his secretary first before the blonde standing imperiously by the doorway, "Has there been a conference room vacated just now?"

His secretary appeared startled. "Uh, yes, sir. Just a little while ago, Mr. Cramer had wrapped up his meeting."

"Very well," he answered in a deceptively calm voice. He turned to address his party. "Excuse me for a moment, and I'm sorry for the interruption." The five other officers recovered from the situation and got up to follow his secretary to another room, thankfully not asking questions. Then he was left alone with Cagalli when the door finally closed.

Although he found the blonde extremely interesting, she wasn't endearing herself to him right now. And even if she had come marching in his office in her own volition, he wasn't very happy about it.

"I don't appreciate your disruption of my conference, Ms. Athha," he said in a clipped tone. He didn't want to lose his calm, but he was meeting with people who played important roles in the company so he couldn't quite keep the vexed pitch from his voice now that they were alone. She, however, surprised him with her answer.

**o-o**

Cagalli had had to argue extensively with his secretary — whom she thought was a complete slattern — before she was able to work her way into his office. And even when he appeared to be in the middle of a meeting, she couldn't quite care at the moment. She needed to make him understand that she wasn't going to play his game, and her indignation couldn't wait. It was very smart of him to tell his colleagues to leave the room because she didn't think she'd be stopped from making a scene.

Obviously, he wasn't thinking very high of her this minute, what with his tone of voice, but if he thought he could get off with reprimanding her like so, he was mistaken.

"Get off your high horse, you asshole!" She was pleased when Athrun's face registered shock, and if she didn't have a shred of courtesy left anymore, she would have vilified him in a way that would even shame the devil in comparison.

"You don't have the right to—"

"Don't tell me I don't have the right to barge in here!" she cut him off, deciding that if her conscience didn't allow her to revile him, she might as well shout at him. She stalked towards him, and, without thinking, poked him hard on the chest. "You listen here, Zala. _I_ don't appreciate how _you_ think you can just talk to me like how you did a while ago! _You _don't have the right to pretend like you didn't know what I was talking about! Something happened between us, all right, and I _don't_ like how you're making light of everything! I have a business to transact with you, so I _don't_ need you insinuating all those innuendos! Do you hear me? So _stop_ it!"

"Cagalli—"

Cagalli paced a little before rounding on him again, once more cutting him off, "Don't 'Cagalli' me! I've had it with your behavior! If you think there are sexual sparks bouncing off the walls when we're facing each other, then you have _another_ thing coming! Stop hinting at…at…" she faltered, making the mistake of pausing in her tirade while she was still trying to bruise him with her poking.

He alarmed her when he caught her finger and backed her towards the wall just beside the white slide, especially when he pinned her arm over her head. "Hinting at what?"

She made to push her off him, but he apprehended her free arm and brought it behind her back. He pressed against her, trapping her between him and the wall and leaving both of them in an awkward position that didn't seem to be bothering him. It was with unbridled horrification that she realized how their condition effectively eradicated the words that were forming in her mouth.

"Hinting at what, Ms. Athha?" he asked again, voice annoyingly smooth, like silk against her skin. Gone was the anger from his visage, replaced by something else she couldn't quite read.

The lights hadn't been turned on since her abrupt entrance and the projector was still running, casting a play of lights on his face. He was so close that she was having a hard time thinking. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but only air came out.

"I can't hear you," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her lips as he came closer.

Cagalli's thoughts zoomed inside her head with a painful celerity, making it very difficult for her to grasp a single train to help her in her situation. Her heart was pounding so loud that she wondered if he could hear it, and just as she thought things couldn't get worse, Athrun inclined his head, bringing their lips to almost a touching distance. Now she was more afraid to make any sudden movements because she might end up being in a lip-lock with him — a situation she didn't fancy to find herself in for she didn't know what would happen then.

She gulped, and when he talked, his lips brushed against the side of her mouth in the most feathery of touches. Every nerve ending in her body was going haywire, tingling with anticipation of something she didn't think she wanted. And if he kissed her right then and there, she wouldn't know how to tell herself not to return it.

"Just so you know, I wasn't keenly aware of the sparks that you were talking about because you hadn't appeared very interested, but now that you've mentioned it, I couldn't help but think that there really is something crackling between us." She felt the grin on his lips more than she saw it. "And I don't think I'd believe you even if you deny it. Not now." He inclined his head further.

Cagalli involuntarily shivered when he pressed a lingering kiss on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He released her then, fluidly pulling back, like a feline awakening from sleep, and she was very thankful that the lights were dim because she could feel just how red she was. But even as she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, her insides were screaming about the sudden loss of contact.

She hated herself.

"I told you that I'd set us up a meeting again. I'll see you then." He was out the door before she could register his apparent dismissal.

It took a moment before she could regain her bearings, and when she did, she became more infuriated at him than she was before striding inside the sanctum of his office.

**x-x-x-x-x**


	6. V: The One With The Bad Habit

Title: Play of the Fates (5 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Five**_

"Good morning, Athrun," Lacus greeted as she pecked him on the cheek.

"Morning, man," was Kira's welcoming words. He pulled a chair backwards for Lacus to sit on then pulled a chair for himself.

"You're late," Athrun replied, re-conquering the seat he had vacated to greet his two closest friends.

The three were seated at a little nook in the breakfast inn they usually went to when they ate breakfast together, which, nowadays, rarely happened. He was almost always at PLANT, working his ass off, and his visits to Earth were few and far in between. But he didn't have much ground to complain on since — although there were times when he was so into his job — he really didn't care for it. Sure, he worked hard to attain what he had now, but it wasn't a job he'd kill to remain in. It just so happened that this kind of work presented itself and he had nothing against taking it. At least, nothing much against it that could jeopardize his whole career.

Lacus giggled good-naturedly. "We're sorry, Athrun. We got a flat tire on our way."

Kira fleetingly eyed him before settling his eyes on Lacus, shrugging insouciantly. "You're too kind, Lacus. He doesn't mind waiting, you know."

Athurn resisted the urge to roll his yes, basically because he wasn't one to do so. "_You're_ too kind, Kira."

Kira chuckled and hailed a passing waiter, who promptly handed them three menus. "Haven't seen you in weeks. And to think we're in the same city," Kira off-handedly said, not bothering to look up from his bill of fare.

Lacus, however, stopped perusing the food choices and fixed Athrun an inquiring stare. "Yes, that's right. After our little dinner at Tavern City, it's like you're back at the PLANTs."

Athrun shrugged, picking up his own list. "You know how my other business visits to earth seemed like vacations? This time, I'm really working my hide off. I've got another meeting later at lunch."

"But it's a Saturday," Kira deadpanned, like that should explain everything.

"Yes, and some of us have to work on weekends."

Kira chuckled again. "So the boss ain't the boss of himself."

Lacus shook his head at her significant other. "Looks like you're booked all throughout your stay." She paused to inform the waiter of her order, then waited for a short while until both boys she was with were done with theirs. "How long are you staying anyway?"

"I don't know for sure. Just for a month, initially. But I might be extending my visit."

"For a girl?"

"What are you, thirteen? Grow up, Kira," Athrun hurriedly pitched in, glad that he finally had Kira where he could be laughed at.

Kira appeared like he couldn't decide if he'd let that slip, but then he grinned. "Nice one."

Lacus was laughing as well. "You're awfully busy, but I hope you can come to my show this coming Friday."

Athrun almost wondered out loud about what his ex-fiancée was talking about before he remembered that Lacus was a singer-turned-fashion designer, and that she was most probably talking about a fashion show she would be holding. He mentally went over his schedule for the week, and found that if he squeezed a few of his appointments at an earlier time — for he was sure that the show would be at night — and if he moved his other calls to next week, he could make it.

"Pretty please, Athrun?"

Lacus was really very good at making him agree to whatever she was suggesting, and there were a very few times that he came out the victor and told her no. Unfortunately, today wouldn't be one of those days. He looked at Kira for help since he knew his best friend would understand that his weekdays were tight, but the brunette simply sipped his coffee.

"That's a lot of help there, Kira." Kira just grinned. Athrun turned to Lacus and gave her his affirmative answer.

"That's great! I have been working on this new line of evening wear for a whole five months!" Lacus fished something from her purse, then handed Athrun a black credit card with pink lining and gold letterings, though it seemed a little bigger than the ordinary plastic card.

"You're giving me a credit card?"

"Why would she give you a credit card when you've got tons of them already?" Kira sarcastically asked, earning an ineffective glare from Athrun. "It's the invite, Athrun Zala. Look before you ask."

"You two little kids at our breakfast inn. Never changes," Lacus observed from the rim of her juice glass just before she drank her fill.

Athrun ran his eyes over what was written in front, which basically was Lacus' logo and brand name, Eternal. He then flipped the card and read the minute details engraved on it, which contained the date, time, and place of the show. Nothing much to give the show away, which he remembered was the way Lacus preferred her invites to be. Then at the bottom right corner were three little words that made him look at them appreciatively: Two seats reserved.

"I forgot to ask, how are the wedding plans?" Athrun asked after securing the invitation in his wallet.

Kira had popped the question roughly a year ago, but neither had really been in a hurry to get the wedding done as both still had their careers prioritized. It was only very recently that the couple started talking about planning the wedding.

"We haven't agreed on a date yet, but we're eyeing a place already. And Lacus has been designing endless numbers of gowns to choose from," Kira replied, smiling fondly at Lacus upon finishing his sentence.

"I have not!" Lacus quickly defended herself, though a grin was threatening to steal over her features.

"Of course. Just around seven, I guess."

Athrun laughed. "I guess wedding plans are ruffling your feathers, huh, Lacus?"

Lacus smiled, a little self-consciously this time. "Yes, a bit, but I'm really excited about it, too!"

The chatty and intimate atmosphere reigning upon the three of them was broken by a constant beeping that sounded a little too obnoxious as it disturbed one of their very few get-togethers. Instantly fishing the offending mobile phone from his pocket, Athrun excused himself to take the call.

Lacus followed Athrun's direction towards an empty niche to answer his phone. "Don't you think he's working just a tiny bit too hard?"

Kira covered Lacus' hand with his own. "It's just something he has to do. This is something we can't really interfere in even if we're the best of friends."

"I just wish there's something we can do."

Kira smiled understandingly at his fiancée, running his thumb over the diamond of her engagement ring that was sitting comfortably on her finger. "He'll ask for help if he needs it. You know him."

At that, Lacus grinned. "Yes, he's just like you." Her grin grew wider. "Stubborn and is horrible at hiding how childish he's acting!"

"Hey!"

Before any of them could add to that, Athrun strode over, pocketing his mobile phone and looking at little distracted.

"Anything wrong, Athrun?" Lacus asked.

"There's been a little accident at the plant. One of the workers may have been hurt," he replied, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a few bills. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

"It's okay, man," Kira piped in.

Athrun nodded at him then placed the money on the table. "Breakfast's on me." Then he turned and left.

**o-o**

The shops that lined the West Side of Orb's shopping district weren't very crowded, as opposed to the East Side where the towering malls littered the corners. Although the West Side shops usually catered to those who had more dollar votes, Cagalli kind of liked it there. The streets and boutiques weren't much congested, and the area was generally less noisy. Though, sometimes, she hated the place because of the one or two snooty snobs she would occasionally bump into.

"Why do we always shop here? Or, better yet, why do _you_ always shop here?" she asked Damien, who was carrying two designer-labeled shopping bags in each arm; she, on the other hand, had both her hands free because there really was nothing she needed to buy. And shopping for no reason wasn't a practical idea she fondly clung to.

If a casual observer were to look at them, he'd probably think they were a couple and that Damien was being gentlemanly by carrying Cagalli's shopping bags. That was what she liked a lot about him — he wasn't very obviously gay. His voice wasn't octaves out of place, and it was a good thing because Miriallia, when excited, was enough of a high-pitched talker for the both of them. If it weren't for his insanely refined and impeccable taste in wardrobe, he'd be like any other man out there. Once, she'd even asked him to be her date for one of _Orb Aesthete's_ benefits, and he had graciously humored her because her break-up with her boyfriend then wasn't one of her memories worth re-living. She'd forever love Damien for that.

"Because, luv, everything here glitters and sparkles!" Damien chirped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Cagalli rolled her eyes. "That's so gay, Damien!" Of course, if Damien were in the comfort of his close friends, he acted more flippantly than his female counterparts.

Damien mock glared at Cagalli through his dark-tinted sunglasses. "Well, what did you expect?" He pulled her along as they crossed the street to take a look at the shops on the other side. "Aren't _you_ buying anything? C'mon, luv, spend! You're working for it!" he exclaimed, ooh-ing at a leather-strapped watch displayed on a JeanRichard store window before dragging Cagalli inside the establishment.

"_That's _why I don't spend as much as you! I _have_ to work for it! You, on the other hand — you spoiled rotten bastard — inherited your money. You don't even _have_ to keep the job you have now!"

"Oh, hush! And whose fault is it anyway? You're too proud for your own good, luv," he responded, clearly referring to Cagalli's relationship with her father.

As the saleswoman greeted them, Damien transferred the bags he was carrying in his left hand to his right hand then he clasped Cagalli's right and entwined their fingers. The saleswoman glanced down at their joined hands, then returned to smiling at them, asking them if she could be of help.

Damien kissed Cagalli on the temple, and she knew instantly what he was trying to do. They always played around like this because, for one, both of them knew how good Damien looked, and, two, because they had agreed that they made a good-looking couple, if Damien were only straight.

Cagalli grinned.

"Oh yes. Her birthday's coming up, and I thought I'd buy her one of your Lady designs."

Cagalli inwardly arched an eyebrow, mainly because her birthday had ended a long time ago. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was saying the truth, but he'd probably just come out and say he needed to look around for a better birthday present and leave the saleswoman with her hopes of selling their product crushed. They did it often enough in the past that she had to pause and worry about some kind of karma coming and knocking on her door. Of course, it would be then that Damien would chide her for thinking about stupid stuff.

The woman, who, Cagalli thought, was really only smiling at Damien, led them to a glass counter displaying their JeanRichard TV Screen Lady watches. Cagalli almost laughed at the woman's obvious flirtations, asking Damien senseless questions, touching his arm, laughing at his small jokes.

_If only she knew…_

Damien seemed to notice, too, as he wrapped an arm around Cagalli's waist and dipped his head to feign an intimate whisper between lovers. Cagalli grinned widely when she spied the small scowl on the woman's face.

"How about this one?" Damien murmured in her ear, quiet enough to tickle the sensitive skin, but loud enough to be heard by the woman.

Cagalli could swear the woman glared at her when Damien brushed his lips on her ear. "Oh, that's a fine one, Damien!" she replied, adding a giggle to annoy the saleslady.

"Yes, it is," the woman answered, a little hesitant to hand the watch to Cagalli when Damien asked her to retrieve it from the glass.

Damien took it off its case and proceeded to buckle it around Cagalli's wrist, surprising her. Usually, their jokes didn't lead to any of them trying on stuff. After salesladies showed them their wares, they would verbally dismiss the idea of buying and walk out of the shop faster than anyone could say Genesis.

"How do you like it?" Damien asked, running a finger down the smooth red leather strap before lifting Cagalli's hand as if to inspect the watch at a better angle and lighting.

Cagalli stared at him instead of the watch, not quite comprehending what he was trying to do. Surely, he wasn't thinking of buying her the watch. That was just absurd. First, she had a perfectly functional watch to begin with — along with other watches she owned — and second, there was no occasion that called for it.

She must have sounded a weird reply for Damien shook his head at her then proceeded to make business with the woman. Then the next thing she knew, he was flashing one of his plastics and signing a receipt. She didn't even get to remove the watch before Damien guided her out the door and into the streets bathed by the afternoon sun.

"Uh…what just happened?" Cagalli asked, still a little dazed as she un-strapped her wrist of the watch since it looked ridiculous to be wearing two watches for no apparent reason. Though, now that she thought about it, it would still look ridiculous even if she had a plausible reason.

"What do you mean?" Damien casually asked as they sauntered down the avenue's side-walk.

Cagalli dangled the Swiss ticker in front of his face when she had fallen into step beside him. "Is this really for me?"

"I don't think it would suit me."

"Occasion?"

"Nothing."

Cagalli paused, retrieving the small paper bag from Damien's hand to place the half-hunter back in its box. Then she rounded on him as a thought hit her, "Oh my god! You did something unforgivable, didn't you? That's why you bought me this!"

"I like how you're so trusting and unsuspicious. Gives me a tingly feeling inside."

The sarcasm was laid on too thick that Cagalli had to grin. "Oh come on! There's _gotta_ be a reason!" She paused to affect a thinking stance then glanced slyly at her friend. "Don't tell me you're not gay."

"You know what, if that were true, then half of the female populace would rejoice and flock on my doorstep."

Cagalli laughed then sobered as he had yet to answer her question. "But seriously. What's it for, Damien?"

"I owe you two years' worth of birthday presents."

"What?" Cagalli asked, confused.

"Remember when I was in Europe for two straight years and never contacted you and Miriallia? I missed out on everything, and now that I've bought you a gift, I've only got Miriallia to think about." Damien grinned at her. "I remember how you gushed about this watch when we were looking at a catalogue they sent me."

Cagalli shook her head disbelievingly. "You buy someone lunch to make up for missed birthdays, not a watch!"

Damien rolled his cerulean eyes. "_Poor_ people buy others lunch. _I_ buy 'em watches."

"I can't accept this, Damien. This is too much," she argued, hefting the bag towards her friend.

"It costs more than what I usually give you. Big deal, luv. Keep it! I also missed two Christmases, didn't I? Think of it as four gifts in one!" he exclaimed, slightly exasperated at Cagalli's obstinacy.

Before Cagalli could reply, a mobile phone rang, and she wondered briefly if it was Damien's, then realized that the distinctive tone was coming from her pocket. "Yes?" she answered, casting Damien a withering glance before turning her attention to the person on the other end. "Oh my god, honey! Are you all right?"

Damien immediately looked concerned at the sudden alarmed pitch in Cagalli's voice.

"Yeah, yeah. We're on our way." She clicked off her phone then addressed Damien's anticipative expression. "It's Mir. They had a car accident, and she and her mother are in the hospital right now."

Damien's hand flew to his heart. "The poor darlings!"

"Mir's all right, just a few scratches, but her mom took the brunt of the blow according to her. Damien, we better hurry! She must be feeling alone and scared right now!"

"My car's parked all the way on the other side. Let's take a cab!" As if on cue, a cab rounded a curb and Damien immediately hailed it. "The Kusanagi Hospital, please," he instructed the cab driver as he and Cagalli scampered to enter the car.

Cagalli shifted and leant towards the unsuspecting driver. "And hurry!"

**o-o**

Cagalli rubbed her tired eyes as she inserted some coins in the vending machine, intent to get a cup of hot coffee to invigorate her dulled nerves. The clock in the waiting room told her it was past ten, and Miriallia's mom was still in surgery.

Miriallia was all cried out now, and Damien was with her outside the operating room, which she wished would switch the red light off to signal that the operation was done. She'd had to cart herself off from the stiff seats outside the operating room or she'd be in danger of falling asleep in an awkward position and probably wake up with an equally stiff neck.

She sluggishly took a tentative sip of the murky liquid, thankful that it was still hot, but grimacing at the same time as the strong brew burnt a trail down her throat. Her energy had been drained; she'd been up since five in the morning when Damien barreled inside her apartment and forced her to jog with him. Then when they had returned to her apartment and showered, she'd barely finished her breakfast when he pulled her to his car and they sped off to spend the afternoon prodigalizing Damien's bottomless stash of money and getting good mileage with the phrase "charge it" every time the cashiers asked if he'd pay in cash or card.

And lately, she hadn't had a proper snooze because she and her team were rushing to finish a corporate publication that was a little behind schedule — their files had been corrupted so they had to re-do everything from scratch. And now, she was discovering that she couldn't function well on just stolen catnaps, mugs of caffeine, and the occasional sugar. Even the adrenaline from Damien's shopping spree and Miriallia's accident was wearing out. Sheer will to be there for a friend in need was the only thing that kept her awake.

It was with a huge yawn that she looked around the empty waiting room, finding it kind of odd that there was no one there when hospital waiting rooms were almost always occupied by at least a couple of people, though she welcomed the emptiness and the availability of soft-cushioned armchairs. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she shuffled over a vacant spot, sipping the bitter decoction from the polystyrene cup.

Just as she rubbed a crick that was forming at her nape, she tripped on a loose end of the rug, sending the contents of her cup flying. And when she looked up, the once pristine suede jacket of the person in front of her was now hastily turning a darker earthy color as the coffee suffused with the cloth. And if that wasn't bad enough, the person to whom she now owed a jacket was none other than Athrun Zala.

Athrun held the front part of his jacket a little away from him to keep the seepage from staining the white shirt he wore underneath. "Well, that was—" he looked up and a slow smile spread across his lips as recognition sparked behind his eyes "—Fancy meeting you here, Cagalli."

Cagalli groaned, cursing her bad luck. "Why, oh why, do I keep bumping into you?"

"Maybe because you're unconsciously wishing for it?" He started to unzip his ruined coat.

"Oh, _you_ wish." She hauled her feet to the trash bin and discarded the empty cup.

"You owe me a jacket, you know," he informed her while casually observing the damage she'd done to his clothing.

Cagalli turned to him, her eyes raking over the soiled jacket he was viewing with a disinterested eye. She rolled her eyes. "Who wears suede to hospitals anyway?" That sounded stupid even to her own ears, but the lack of energy in her veins precluded her from forming a snider comment. And if she didn't currently hate his guts, she'd actually admit that the jacket she ruined was every bit the fabulous garment he had wasted money on. She could almost hear Damien admonishing her for destroying such kind of clothing.

"Well, I _did_, until you demonstrated why exactly people shouldn't wear suede in hospitals."

Despite herself, she had the grace to feel guilty, even if the feeling was a tad belated. "Sorry 'bout that. I tripped. I'll—" she bit her lip at what she was about to say, knowing that his jacket must have caused a fortune "—pay for that."

Athrun waved off her offer. "I don't need a new jacket. You can have it dry-cleaned, you know."

She didn't expect that, if truth be told, but an unreasonable voice in her head told her that if he were really a gentleman, he wouldn't have her doing him favors. She immediately squashed the thought. Why would she expect him to treat her like that when she'd made it obvious before that she didn't appreciate being treated differently? Besides, with the short time she'd been given to know him, she'd put the puzzle pieces together and discovered that he could be as every bit annoying and cocky as the devil himself if he wanted to be.

"Why are you here anyway?" she asked, holding out her hand to take the jacket as she moved closer.

"Why are _you_ here?"

Cagalli didn't bother to be subtle with her irritation at how he threw the question right back at her. "Because."

Athrun shrugged as he handed over the piece of clothing. "Then I'm here just because, too."

He grinned, and Cagalli felt the urge to wipe it off his handsome face. She roughly tugged the jacket from his grip. Half-expecting him to hold onto it to tease her, the khaki clothing fluttered to the ground when he easily let go.

When she bent to get it, she did it too hastily that the blood rushed to her head, making her feel woozy and causing her to stumble. Had he been too slow in wrapping a firm hand around her arm to steady her, she would have fallen on the ground in an undignified heap.

When Athrun righted her, Cagalli found herself standing too close to him…just a little too close for comfort. Gulping a lump in her throat that she hated herself for, she tried to extract herself from his hold, only to have him clamp down harder to keep her rooted to her spot.

"Athrun," she sounded a warning note, which he blatantly ignored by leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Do something for me, will you?"

His breath tickled the sensitive skin of her ear, and when he experimentally nibbled on the tip of it, she felt her spine go rigid, rendering her too shocked to move and too bewildered to push him away. An involuntary shiver stole up her spine, and she felt him smirk against the flesh he was torturing.

"Wh—" She cleared her throat then began anew, trying to do away with the sudden onslaught of high-strung nerves that made her voice quiver slightly, "Whatever. Anything to get you out of my face." She just hoped that that came out as forceful as she planned it to for she didn't think she could last long in her position. She couldn't think straight enough with him just breathing down her neck, and to actually have him pressed intimately close to her was just too cruel.

Athrun chuckled, and Cagalli all the more wanted to push him away. She really wanted to, but she was so frozen stiff that when she uttered that weak statement of defiance, she amazed herself.

"Humor me, all right?" Athrun made it sound like an order, and when he released her, he placed something against the palm of her hand, something flat, mostly smooth, and interspersed with roughness at irregular intervals.

Cagalli immediately glanced down at her hand to see a hard-plastic material she didn't notice him retrieving from anywhere.

"I'll see you on Friday, Cagalli," he called out, using the time it took Cagalli to read what was embossed on the card to straighten his clothes out and slip away from her.

Cagalli whipped her head to hail him back, but the automatic glass doors that led to the anteroom of the hospital lobby were already closing behind him. She glanced down at the card again.

_Eternal (Haute Couture)_

_A flight of fancy on the catwalk_

_I, Lacus Clyne, eagerly invite you to see my latest line of evening wear._

_19:00, Friday, April 20, CE 71_

Cagalli read each word with growing trepidation, and when her eyes landed on the three words at the bottom right corner, she just about died, only to remember that she should be angry at Athrun's incredible arrogance in assuming that she would do his bidding: _Two seats reserved._

She stomped her foot hard on the cold floor, hurling the soiled suede jacket towards an unsuspecting armchair. Why did she have to say that she'd do anything to get her out of her earlier predicament, which, incidentally, was synonymous to her earlier position? She'd bet her salary that he'd never let her hear the end of it if she backed out now. Why was she always at the losing end whenever it was Athrun she went up against?

She stomped her foot once more. _The bastard!_

**o-o**

Outside, the evening breeze blew softly around Athrun as he walked towards the parking lot. He'd gone back to the hospital after working overtime at the office to check on one of their plant workers who'd been admitted earlier that day after the accident, but he didn't think things would turn out to be so interesting. He had planned to call her secretary and make it so like he was arranging for another meeting about her father's purchase, but meeting her in the hospital gave him another idea, and now he'd told her what he wanted. Come Friday night, he'd see her again, and he was willing to bet his entire bank account that she would be there.

Slipping inside his Maserati, he ran his fingers through his dark hair. Then he shook his head. Teasing Cagalli Athha and sparking enough tension between them was fast becoming a bad habit, and as all bad habits went, he knew he'd have a hard time shaking this one off.

**x-x-x-x-x**

Thanks a lot, a lot, a lot for getting this story past the hundredth-review mark on just the fifth installment! Those reviews really spurred me to write. Honest. Thanks lots, chickadees!

When I titled it _The Play of the Fates_, I _meant_ it. Lol. And now you know who Athrun had dinner with at Tavern City.


	7. VI: The One With The Drunken Singing

Title: Play of the Fates (6 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Six**_

"I expected a bloody welcome party, and what do I get? A cup of stale coffee?"

"Then you should have stayed in that rainy country and poured tea with the queen. And that's a steaming cup."

Dearka grinned and removed his feet from the polished desk in front of him, careful not to spill coffee on his clothes. "I never really liked you, Zala."

"I know. Otherwise, you wouldn't set me up on stupid blind dates." Athrun made a shooing motion, affecting a slightly annoyed face. "What brings you here?"

Dearka promptly rolled his eyes. It was just like Athrun to skip all the niceties and get to the point at once when it came to him. Standing up and vacating Athrun's leather office chair, he retrieved a card from his pocket, showing it to Athrun as he stood in front of his desk.

"You got invited, too, then."

Dearka made a face. "Well, duh, your lordshit. Lacus invites all her friends." Dearka returned the card inside his pocket. "Aren't you glad I'm coming? It'll be like the old times!" He grinned cheekily.

"So Yzak's coming, too?" Athrun looked up from the papers he was shuffling. It didn't matter the he, Dearka, and Yzak were from the same fraternity — it was always trouble for him whenever he was with the two of them.

"You know him, Mr. I'm-tough-you-can't-touch-me but a real softy when it comes to the Pink Princess."

Athrun laughed at that. "So, why are you here in my office?"

"Just thought I'd pop in and see if you wanted to play golf."

"Don't you have Yzak for that?"

"Wow, you make it sound like I'm sleeping with the guy."

Athrun tried to arch an eyebrow, only to remember that he wasn't capable of it. "You're not?"

Dearka glared at Athrun, almost tempted to flash him the finger. "I slept with that brunette superstar. I slept with that highest-paid model. I slept with that hot tennis player. All_ female_. And I'd probably sleep with your sister if you had one, but never with a fucking man, Zala!"

Athrun laughed again, too amused to even feel hypothetically offended for his hypothetical sister. "Since when did you stop recognizing jokes?"

With the grace of a ton of bricks, Dearka slumped on one of the chairs situated in front of Athrun's desk. "Since when do _you_ joke? This is what, a _first_ from you?"

"Touched a nerve, didn't I?" Athrun overlooked the barb directed at him.

"Fuck you and your fucking queer jokes."

Athrun grinned, amused once again, but he didn't add anything else to further that thread of conversation. "Where's Yzak anyway? And no, before you play the shagging-my-sister card again, I'm not implying anything."

"'Shagging'?" Dearka smirked, ignoring Athrun's question and immediate backtracking all together

"You started it. Going all English on me. Really, a few months in that country and you're all high and bloody mighty."

Dearka chuckled, adjusting his position on the chair he was occupying. "Didn't even notice it. But they're interesting people with an interesting talk." He shrugged. "Anyway, haven't heard from him, actually. Lacus just told me that he had been invited, too. That guy has a flair for the dramatics, probably planning on busting through the door in the middle of the show."

Athrun hummed his acknowledgement. "I can't play golf. I've to re-arrange my entire schedule to make time for that show."

"Busy, busy, busy. All work and no play make Athrun a dull poof."

Athrun didn't dignify that with a response as he once more shooed away the annoying blonde, making sure to emphasize his gestures to get him moving.

"All right, all right, I'm leaving." Dearka began to walk away after depositing his coffee cup on Athrun's desk. "Jeez. Give a man an office, and he thinks he's sodding king of the world."

Athrun just shook his head as Dearka closed the door to his room, not bothering to keep his muttering quiet. Some things would never change.

**o-o**

"Hello, good afternoon," Cagalli answered her own phone. Her secretary called in sick today, and although she had once sworn that it wouldn't take her this early to be answering phone calls again, she slipped back into the habit and wasn't really thinking much of it.

"Hello, sweets."

The hand that was holding the earpiece turned white as Cagalli's grip on the phone tightened, her back going rigid as she sat straighter in her chair. She knew that voice, and it irritated her as much at it angered her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much."

"Then why call?"

"Come on, Cagalli. Don't be like that. I was hoping we could patch things up between us."

Cagalli almost shivered, at what, though, she couldn't quite tell. "How did you get this number?"

"Not important. Meet me. You know where. Same time."

"Fuck you. And that restraining order ain't very far-fetched now, jerk!" Then she slammed the receiver back to its cradle. For a while, she bristled. She hated clingy, and her ex-boyfriend was practically the epitome of it, almost bordering on stalking her. She was just glad that he was smart enough not to try any stunts on her like those she'd watched on TV where the stalkers were psychotics and needed to be put down. She wouldn't hesitate to call the police, unlike in some drama movies where the protagonist annoyingly kept on trying to solve things by herself.

Damn, she watched way too much. She let a small smile steal over her features before her irritation returned ten-fold and her slight amusement deserted her completely.

She was having a busy day, trying to organize a benefit for their company. It was for the charity division, and she was given only about two weeks to arrange it. Two weeks, and so far, she hadn't any luck reserving a place to hold it at. Orb's grand places seemed to have all been reserved and rented out, and if she had gotten the assignment earlier, she probably wouldn't be having troubles with the venue. As it was, two weeks was a ridiculous time constraint for an event as big as this one.

That was only the start of her headache. Then her ex-boyfriend just had to call. Again. After a few weeks of being silent, he was back to vexing her to no end. If only he didn't appear almost comical in his ways and pleadings, she'd have pressed charges and gone for a restraining order, which, now that she thought about, wouldn't be far from happening if he kept his habits up.

She heaved a sigh and glanced at the clock: 5:30. She still had a long night ahead, and although it went everything against her to come to the fashion show and meet Athrun, she had given her word. Since the day she met him, nothing seemed to be going her way, and if she wanted to do something about that, she'd have to think of a plan. She'd be damned before he continued owning the upper hand.

**o-o**

Athrun undid the top buttons of his shirt as he waited for Cagalli outside the Eternal building, a little away from the red carpet and the flashing cameras of eager reporters. He almost thought he wouldn't be able to make it despite his adjustments, but one of his clients had rescheduled their meeting, and he was given enough time to drive from his office to Lacus' fashion show, which, apparently, was a high-profile event.

As Lacus had tried to point out to him well-known designers and famous superstars, he noticed the nervous energy that emanated from her, mixed with the excited dynamicity in her voice. But before he could distinguish one face from another, Lacus had been whisked away by a reporter, and Kira had, of course, accompanied his fiancée. So here he was, waiting for his date whom he had no doubts would come despite the animosity she was directing at him. Where most guys would probably learn to keep away, he was drawn in, inexplicably diverted by her animation and expressiveness.

Athrun's attention was pulled by the sudden uproar on the red carpet, and when he turned to look, he had to grin at the scowl gracing Yzak's face as reporter after reporter barraged him with questions, and photographer after photographer asked him to pose. He never did understand why Yzak chose to become a model when he absolutely hated the paparazzi, not to mention his disgust at the occasional fan harassment he received every time he was spotted.

Dearka had yet to show up, and contrary to the blonde's words earlier in his office, Yzak arrived earlier than they expected, and it was Dearka who seemed to be running late. He glanced at his watch, and it was almost time for the program to start, but before he wondered how late Cagalli would get there, a cab stopped in front of him, and out stepped Cagalli, holding a mobile phone to her ear and frowning at the person on the other end of the line. She looked a tad harried in what he assumed were the clothes she wore to the office earlier that day, but nonetheless pretty and confident in the way she carried herself.

Just as she clicked off her mobile and the cab sped away, he tucked his hands in his pockets and spoke, "Hi, darling."

**o-o**

Calling for a reservation for the seventh time today made Cagalli very irritable, especially when none of those she had called could offer a place for her benefit. But that wasn't the sole reason she was having a bad day. Another reason was her ex-boyfriend, though she was trying so hard not to think of that stupid phone call lest she go mad. Another was her current transportation. The day she had moved to her new residence was the day she sold her car, and since she was going nowhere with the transaction with Athrun, she was back to taking cabs. It wasn't so bad, actually, but earlier on, the cab driver had badly hit on her that she had to get out and hail another cab in the middle of a busy Friday-night street.

"Is that so? Well, thanks anyway," she ended the call, and that's when she heard him addressing her. For some reason, the casual deliverance of the endearment unsettled yet again the slowly quieting butterflies in her stomach.

"Do you know that you're looking pretty sexy right now?" He ran his gaze over her slightly rumpled clothing.

The sarcasm wasn't lost on her, and she rolled her eyes since she probably looked like shit. "Wow, gee, _thanks_." She tried to smoothen the wrinkles from her top, then easily slipped on her ecru coat, thinking about not taking it off the whole night because it probably wouldn't do to strut around looking like she had slept in her clothes as compared to her companion for the night, who seemed to have had all the time in the world to dress up.

"Don't mention it." He offered his arm to her.

Cagalli wasn't sure if she wanted to take it, but since he hadn't done anything yet to embarrass her tonight, it must be all right to let her guard down just a little.

She took his arm.

When they got inside, after much fuss from the media group, they were instantly ushered by a brown-haired man to the room at the back of the stage where models stayed. It was a busy place, and something Cagalli didn't particularly like since she'd had too many of this kind of experience back at _Orb Aesthete_. If there were one thing she didn't like during fashion scoops, it was socializing with the models. Maybe because she had a particularly bad experience with them, something that landed her in a pit she'd rather forget.

Despite her aversion to the crowd, she allowed her gaze to sweep across the vast room, listening to little snippets of the conversation between Athrun and the other brunette — Kira, was it? — but generally tuning them out. She was, however, jolted out of her muse when Athrun touched her elbow, and she noticed that she now had her back to them and was curiously studying the fabrics that swished and swooshed around the models.

"Yes?" When she faced them, they were joined by a pretty pink-head who had an arm linked around Kira's. "Oh, hello. You must be Lacus? Cagalli." she extended her hand, and despite being comfortable in her own skin, the fact that she was wearing unflattering and rumpled clothes beneath her coat made her feel just a little bit self-conscious. She'd seen Athrun's ex-fiancée in different magazines, and Sheila had her in her A-list, but seeing her up-close, she was even more beautiful that Cagalli had to wonder why Athrun let her go. But considering she thought Athrun was a little touched in the head, she guessed the guy just couldn't figure out what he was missing.

"Hello, Cagalli," she smiled, shaking the proffered hand.

"Um," Cagalli started a little hesitantly, "is there a problem?"

The smile Lacus was wearing drooped for a bit, but she waved a dismissive hand. "There are minor adjustments to the show. Three models caught the flu, so I'm kind of short on models."

"Oh."

Then Lacus gave her a brilliant smile that told her she knew something and would be trying to use it to her advantage. It made Cagalli slightly uncomfortable, especially since Lacus was a well-known designer and most probably had a wide circle of designer friends.

"You and Yula are one and the same, am I right?"

Cagalli gulped down the sudden lump in her throat, and when she glanced at Athrun, she found herself wanting to smack the amused expression in his face. She swore he only saw her as a pure source of entertainment, nothing more, and she was willing to bet that if Athrun caught a bad wind, his face would forever be stuck like that. And then they'd see who'd be amused.

Cagalli finally cleared her throat to answer. "Um—"

"Can your model for my show? It won't be a thank-you performance, so please don't think I'm only asking because we have Athrun as a common friend."

Cagalli didn't know which to defend herself against: being asked to model or being labeled as Athrun's friend, when, clearly, she couldn't very much stand his presence.

"I didn't know you did modeling," Athrun piped in, giving her that slow smile that sent an unwelcome shiver up her spine.

Cagalli bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from scathingly reminding Athrun that he virtually knew nothing about her. Period.

"Look, Lacus—" she paused, inwardly debating whether to tell the truth or deny it, but when she felt the three of them looking at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes. For starters, she wasn't friends with any of them, much less in a position to grant them favors.

She gave an aggravated sigh, not caring that the others might think her rude. She knew nothing good would come out of this, and if she hadn't stubbornly given her word, Athrun would turn white waiting outside for a Cagalli that wouldn't show up.

She didn't fancy herself walking down the runway, and had indulged a friend before only because of a favor. She just wasn't prone to preening because of extravagant attention, but it wasn't the intimidating amount of observance she got that made her shy away from catwalks; it was the experience that went with her modeling stint that made her somewhat antipathetic to the activity.

Not wanting to discuss anything with Lacus in the presence of two men who wouldn't be able to distinguish a serious confession from a useless girly secret, she shooed Kira and Athrun away and detachedly wondered what Kira thought of her bossy display. She probably wasn't making a very striking impression, unless striking was at the lowest point of the impressiveness spectrum.

"I'm not a model, Lacus. Yula… that's a one-time thing," she finally let out when the two men meandered away obediently. "How'd you know anyway?"

"Remember that summer wear fashion show?"

Cagalli briefly glanced heavenward, as if the thought bothered her more than it should have. "Do I ever."

Lacus gave a quiet giggle at Cagalli's gestures. "Well, I designed those clothes."

Cagalli furrowed her brow. "But I thought yours is Eternal?"

"Well, Eternal wasn't conceptualized until last year."

"Oh? But isn't Archangel still being used now?" Cagalli asked, curious, then hastily re-assuring herself that her curiosity was only born of hanging out with Damien and being over-exposed to his inclination towards designer brands.

"Yes, but mainly for scents. Clothes and shoes sport the name Eternal." Lacus plucked two mini bottles of Mission Hill Reisling Ice Wine then handed one to Cagalli, along with a sparkling straw. "We had problems with the orders so the champagne is out."

Cagalli shook her head. "Ice wine is good. Has that funny acidity."

"Yes, I suppose so. For some reason, it gives the models a boost." Lacus momentarily eyed the busy women in the room. "Am I really hopeless in asking you that favor?"

Cagalli let her amber orbs settle on the pink-head beside her. Lacus seemed not to be the type to beg in that annoying kind of way that Cagalli hated. She was just there, calmly inquiring whether Cagalli had changed her mind. For that, she felt a little guilty. She had no permanent affiliations with the people who were currently occupying her night, and she had no special friendship with Lacus, but maybe she could indulge another person — a potential friend after she had decided that she liked the pretty ex-fiancée.

"All right, Lacus. Maybe once more wouldn't hurt."

Lacus smiled widely, thanking her once before ushering her to a make-up booth, but before the make-up artist could belt her to the stool, she excused herself for a short while to get some fresh air. After all, she still didn't quite understand what she felt about agreeing. Yula was a person of the past, a one-time model she'd allowed herself to be for a friend as much as to start her new independent life. And as much fun as she'd had then, it was also a point in her life she didn't think she'd ever felt as low, simply because of that one event she was trying so hard to forget.

**o-o**

Athrun accepted the coke in can Kira offered him before raising a hand in greeting at the fair-head walking towards them. Kira then offered Yzak the same beverage, which the latter eyed with disinterest.

"Really, Yamato, been in the same friggin' fraternity for years, and yet you still offer me soda."

Kira just chuckled at the hostility that had been softened over the years of awkward friendship.

Athrun would never understand why Yzak and Kira lacked the slanted comity they usually had with their other friends, but since the two had always had that kind of relationship, he had gotten used to it, and they probably had, too, since the biting remarks and scathing retorts seemed more out of habit than anything else. Besides, even he was sometimes at the end of Yzak's unreasonable irritation.

"I always forget that you're a health nut," Kira threw back, pulling the tab off the tin before taking a swig of his drink.

"Unlike some processed food junkies I know. Where's that wannabe Elsman at?"

Kira shrugged. "I'm not his keeper."

Yzak glared. "Did your parents _ever_ ask you to run away from home?"

Athrun couldn't fight off the snigger that bubbled out of him. "I think he's here on vacation, so it's either he hooked up with old golf buddies or a girl." Then he added as an afterthought, "Or both. Seriously, does it look like we honestly care?" He shook his head when Kira laughed, then he hurriedly excused himself upon seeing Cagalli exit the stage room.

"In a hurry, aren't we?" he voiced out when he fell into step beside her.

"I just need fresh air. Don't need you to escort me, you know."

"It's like you're expecting something to happen." When he glanced down at her, he wasn't surprised to see the faint pink dusting her cheeks. Who knew a little innocent comment could have her blushing in second's time? Though he didn't actually think it was innocent as much as it was suggestive.

"Are you getting ideas, Cagalli?"

Cagalli almost choked on the drink she was quietly sipping from a sparkly straw. "N-no, of course not! Why would I? I mean, are _you_ getting ideas?" She eyed him suspiciously.

He'd finished his coke by the time they reached the outside, after preferring to use a backdoor to avoid the crowding media that didn't seem to be thinning anytime soon. She was still casting him that dubious little glare, waiting for him to refute her suspicions to get them back on track. For a while, he wanted to, but then he'd had a busy day, and where was the fun in that?

"If I share, will you be willing to entertain them?"

"What?" she backpedaled so fast, he actually thought she'd trip on her heels. "Athrun! Stop it! Stop the frigging innuendos!" Then she took note of the unreadable expression on his face and decided that she didn't like it. "And stop looking at me like that!"

He tried to keep himself from smiling. "Like what?"

Cagalli was sounding exasperated. "Like you've seen me naked!"

This time, Athrun grinned self-indulgently. "Why would I do that?" Athrun could safely vouch for Cagalli's compulsion to throw the wine bottle at him if she hadn't already discarded it.

"Because—"

"I didn't know you were a model," he hastily cut her off, steadily moving closer, but Cagalli didn't seem to be noticing it as she was still seething in anger.

"I wasn't! I won't ever be! And you didn't know because, frankly, you don't have business knowing it!"

Athrun clucked his tongue in a display of disapproval. "That smart mouth is better off being kissed, you know."

"Why you—"

Again, she was cut off very abruptly, but this time, by another man who wasn't even participating in their conversation, and Athrun was surprised by the tone the interruption was done and by the person who actually interrupted them.

"Hey, baby. Miss me?"

Cagalli whirled around, and the frown marring her features turned into a delightful grin, again, surprising Athrun by the turn of events. Of all the persons that could be familiar with Cagalli, it had to be someone he was familiar with, too.

"Dearka!"

Dearka retained his measured strides, and by the time he got close enough, he wound an arm around Cagalli's waist and brought her against him, and much to Athrun's displeasure, Dearka dipped his head as if to kiss the girl Athrun brought to Lacus' event. Cagalli merely cradled his head and placed both her thumbs on Dearka's lips before kissing him with an audible pop, the actions almost like a habit.

It didn't take long for Athrun to re-gain his composure, and he made sure he was back to being cool before he cleared his throat.

"Hello, Athrun. I guess I'm not late since you're still out here," Dearka regarded him, completely forgetting to mention why he knew Cagalli, probably because the blonde male didn't think it important to let Athrun know.

"Yeah. Yzak's looking for you. He's inside with Kira."

"And the Pink Princess?"

"As fabulous as ever."

Dearka chuckled. "Never thought otherwise. I'll see you later, pet," he directed the last part at Cagalli.

"Yes, guv'nor. Good to have you back in the country!"

When they were safely alone again, Athrun turned to Cagalli. "So, how did you know Dearka?"

Cagalli appeared amused for the first time that night. "What, don't tell me you're jealous."

"Jealousy is a foreign concept."

Cagalli, at that, laughed. "Oh, oh, _I_ get it! You _are _jealous! And we're not even together!"

Athrun decided he liked a laughing Cagalli, but that didn't mean he liked her laughing at him, though, he had to admit, he didn't hate it either. Time to put a stop to it. "Not for long." Then he kissed her, open-mouthed, and Cagalli went rigid with surprise. Athrun swore that the silence that followed was quite blessed, especially when it was broken by a quiet moan coming from the woman in his arms. He had noticed her hesitance, but that had evaporated not a second later.

When he was sure that Cagalli no longer had a cocky golf player in her mind, he pulled away and favored her a slow grin, liking the disoriented cloud that had gotten hold of her eyes. "We'll see if you really weren't a model when you walk down that runway. I'll see you later."

Cagalli, at the low and sensual voice Athrun used, felt the tingles didn't just pass through her spine but very inconsiderately stayed. And it was only when Athrun had his hand on the door handle did she find her voice. "You can't just do that! You can't shut me up like that!" she injected as much vitriol as she could in her voice.

Athrun smirked. "I just did."

**o-o**

Cagalli was still pissed at Athrun even after Lacus told her that she could keep the clothes she would be modeling; she was still pissed at him after the fashion show was over; and she remained pissed at him during the after-party. That was why she didn't bother keeping count of the daiquiris she was plastering herself with at the open bar Lacus kept for the event. And the hazy fog that had settled in her head made her forget the names of the people she met that day, conveniently limiting her embarrassment gauge as she didn't know the people who saw her almost trip, the people who saw her laugh at Dearka's jokes like she'd heard nothing funnier, and the people who saw her being led away by Athrun, who didn't look the slightest bit flustered at the clumsy behavior of his company for the night.

"Wh-where are…where are you…bri-bring…taking me, Athrun?" she slurred as he righted her when her balance swayed dangerously to the side.

"I'm taking you home."

"Aw." She freed her elbow from his hold quite harshly, causing her to stumble, and had he been too slow in catching her, she would have ploughed herself through the pavement. "You party-pooper! I don't wanna go home yet! I was enjoying the party!"

"The party's over."

"Jeez, Athrun, a-are you always this…this difficult, or are you—" she hiccupped "—or are you ma-making a special effort tonight?"

Athrun just sighed as he gently helped her get into the front passenger seat of his car, buckling her seatbelt with a little difficulty as she kept trying to swat his hands away and getting out of the vehicle. As if on cue, she quieted down when he was done, but as soon as Athrun had inserted his key in the ignition, Cagalli proceeded to blast the interior of his car with the loud music of the seminal English rock band, Queen.

"Where do you live?"

"What?" She couldn't hear him through the high volume of the speakers.

"Where do you live?" he repeated, lowering the volume.

Cagalli had half a mind to tell him off for party-pooping her off-key singing session, but his question made its way through her addled brain. "Uh, in…a-a…house…I-I don't know," she shrugged helplessly, then she giggled because it was funny that she couldn't remember where she lived. It was already a chore stringing words to form sentences, and he wanting her to think of where she lived when she could barely finish the first activity was just too cruel, she decided. "Maybe we…maybe we can look it…look it up on the map!"

Athrun seemed to be fighting off another sigh that threatened to escape his lips. It was a good thing that his apartment was just around the central business district of Orb, and, as it was, wasn't very far away from Lacus' studio.

"Hey, hey, Athrun." She poked him, but he remained unresponsive. "Hey! Tell me where we're going!" she half-shouted, half-slurred, and when he remained silent, she turned up the volume after drunkenly sticking her tongue out at him. "Fine! You party-pooping par-party-poop…er!"

**o-o**

By the time Athrun reached the floor of his apartment, Cagalli had managed to scare a cat in the street and an old couple from riding the elevator with her off-key rendition of _Bohemian Rhapsody_. He'd even asked her on their way up if she were stopping anytime soon, to which she enthusiastically replied "I'm just a musical prostitute, my dear!" Then after quoting Freddie Mercury, she lapsed into another chorus of the same song.

It was a relief that she had been reduced to humming by the time he swiped the cardkey on the reader — a simple activity done not without difficulty as he had to keep supporting Cagalli lest she trip or wander away.

"Hey, Athrun, I bet you're…I bet you're thinking that if…if things turn out well, you'll…you'll get lucky like the…like the first time," he heard Cagalli mumble, glad that her speech wasn't slurred anymore, though it still held a drunken tone.

"Hn."

"'Hn' my foot! You know why…know why I got so drunk?" her voice was getting a little louder and less subdued. "'Cause I hate your guts! Yeah I do! You can't tell me things like — hey! Least you can do is keep me from hitting that damn table!" She rubbed the spot where the blunt edge of the hall table contacted. "Ow."

This time, Athrun hefted a tired sigh, not really apologetic as Cagalli hit herself because she was trying to rip away from him. Then he leant Cagalli on the wall, pulling her coat open and un-tucking her white blouse.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Cagalli tried to push him off her, but the alcohol in her system rendered her limbs quite useless.

"Let me check." With an easy tug, he had exposed the part she was rubbing a while ago, easily distinguishing the red mark on her hipbone that he was sure would bruise come morning. Running his thumb over the spot, he heard her sharp intake of breath, and the hands that were earlier pushing away at his shoulders were now gripping his jacket. He doubted it was because of the pain, and when he moved his head to look at Cagalli, he noticed her hooded gaze lingering on him, as if asking for something she didn't want to voice out.

Athrun progressively let his hand wander under her shirt, lightly brushing over her skin, and his earlier conjecture that her reaction wasn't brought about by pain was proven when Cagalli's even breathing turned erratic. Not a second longer, he was sealing his mouth over hers, running a tongue over her lower lip then taking advantage of her open mouth, and just like that night at the Freedom Metropolis, she tasted of sweet cocktails and erotic thrill.

He easily divested her of her coat, and the buttons of her shirt were just as easily popped, leaving her bare skin free to his roving hands, warm soft skin beneath exploring fingers. She leant away from the kiss as a throaty moan ripped from her throat, and he trailed open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, pausing to suck on the sensitive skin below her ear before nibbling his way to her shoulders.

Cagalli distractedly tried to remove his jacket, and the hurried motions seemed to snap something inside Athrun's head for he immediately stopped what he was doing. A whimper forced its way out of Cagalli's mouth at the sudden loss of contact, but Athrun just steadied himself, looking at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

With her all flushed and looking at him like that, it was every bit a chore to extricate himself from her and to not ravish her then and there. And when she whimpered again, his resolve threatened to crack.

"Don't stop."

"You're too drunk."

It took a short while for Cagalli to be able to flash him an irritated glance. "Didn't stop you that first time, did it?"

She was really making it hard for him to keep his control. "We're gonna continue this later, when you're sober. And believe me," he paused to nibble on her ear, "I won't stop even if you beg me to. Stubbornness can only get you so far."

Cagalli visibly shivered at his words. "Ath-Athrun…"

Athrun put a small distance between them, then bent to secure an arm behind her knees, keeping the other on her upper back before standing straight and carrying her across the room and up the small flight of stairs towards his bedroom. "You tell me you don't want anything to happen to us, and yet your body shows otherwise." He deposited her on dark, pristine sheets. "No more lies."

Cagalli could only stare at him while he removed her shoes, and when he kissed her again, she responded like an eager teenager. She felt him remove her skirt, and she gave another disgruntled groan when he disentangled himself from her, chuckling at the humor he found in her situation.

Athrun retrieved a shirt from his closet then helped her get into it before tucking her in. He glanced at the clock to see that it was almost two in the morning. "Later, Cagalli."

As soon as he closed his door, he took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. He rubbed his face with his hands, then he looked down and grimaced. "I need a cold shower."

**x-x-x-x-x**

Citation/s:

"Stop looking at me like that/ Like what/ Like you've seen me naked!" – Meredith and Derek in _Grey's Anatomy, Season 1 Episode 1: A Hard Day's Night_


	8. VII: The One With The Dry Cleaning

Title: Play of the Fates (7 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

The first thing that Cagalli noticed upon waking up was the headache that was threatening to split her head in half. The second thing she noticed was that her mouth felt like an unforgiving cotton field, which could only mean that she fell asleep after an unhealthy round of alcohol intake. The third thing she noticed was the unfamiliar ceiling she was staring at.

She blinked.

The last time she checked, her ceiling had a lazy green finish with artistic splashes of gold, just like her old apartment, but this one she was scrutinizing was painted a pristine white. And when she tried to sit up and glimpsed at the shirt she was wearing, she realized she was in another person's room, wearing another person's shirt, and suffering from a hangover on another person's bed. And, as if that wasn't quite bad enough, she couldn't remember why she was there in the first place, not when the pain in her head made it hard to even think of her whole name.

Cagalli didn't suppose it would hurt if she found out where exactly she was a little bit later, and with her newfound negligence, she decided to sleep her headache away.

The second time Cagalli woke up, her stomach had mercifully settled and her headache was more cooperative, letting her remember who she had gone home with the night before — _Or was it earlier this morning?_ — and, unfortunately, letting her remember, too, Athrun's promise, which might as well have been a damned ultimatum. Maybe she could convince him that in her drunken stupor, she had the intellectual capacity of a bag of chips.

Cagalli groaned, detachedly wondering why she had a song of some old rock band playing non-stop in her head. She direly needed to develop an aversion for alcohol lest she continue being in situations like this.

Swinging her feet off the bed, she slowly stood up, just in case her waning headache reared its ugly head at any sudden movements. Then she allowed herself to survey the room. She was tempted to call it non-descript, just out of spite, but that wasn't really the case: the three walls, like the ceiling, were freshly white, while the last one, the wall the headboard was against, was painted a dark red. The upper side of the red wall was embossed with a royal yellow Corinthian cornice and the sides were with thin, flat columns of the same architectural order with their bases extended to connect both posts. On the opposite wall was a smooth, wooden closet that spanned almost half of the entire wall, with the remaining space filled by a mahogany desk and a rust-finished metal tree lamp. On the other hand, the east side contained a large tinted glass serving as a window. It was a handsome room, and despite the heavy wood, it was spacious. The only thing that put a frown on Cagalli's face was that there was absolutely no mirror to be found. She was sure that sleeping in the state she was in last night, she wasn't exactly looking very presentable right now.

Cagalli ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the tangles she encountered. She didn't want to meet Athrun looking like shit in an oversized t-shirt that she knew was his, but she couldn't hide in his room forever.

Striding towards his closet, she threw open the first set of doors and was greeted by the sight of impeccable suits.

_Wrong door._

Opening the next set led to an array of pressed casual clothes.

_Oops._

The last set made her witness to plain shirts, sweaters, and a stack of drawers she knew better than to open.

_Okay...where are the robes?_

Her perusal of his clothing, along with her thoughts, was interrupted by an obvious clearing of the throat by the doorway. Cagalli swore her heart stopped beating as seven shades of red siphoned to her cheeks, and she was more than afraid to close the closet doors and address the man who had just gotten her attention.

"This is…interesting."

At that, Cagalli hurriedly slammed the wooden doors shut and faced Athrun to defend herself. "It's not like that!"

"Mm-hm."

"I was just looking for a robe, you jerk!" If there were one thing she was good at, it was being hostile at the face of abject humiliation.

Athrun raised his hands, seemingly in a defensive gesture, but the motion was done quite lazily that Cagalli couldn't be too sure. Actually, when it came to the guy, Cagalli was unsure of almost everything.

"I wasn't saying otherwise."

She glared at him, crossing her arms in front of her. "You sure look like you're thinking it."

When she had gotten a good scrutiny of Athrun, she became conscious of her state of undress. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a blue-grey pullover while all she had on was a wrinkled shirt over her underwear. It wasn't fair that he looked freshly well-dressed when she was trying to ignore her bed hair.

"Not quite. I was thinking about whether you might wanna shower. Though I still find you quite alluring with bed hair."

If it were possible, Cagalli blushed even harder. Trust Athrun to emphasize her current lack of presentability and attractiveness. "You jerk!" With that, she stomped her way out of the room, bumping into Athrun on purpose and smiling in satisfaction when he stumbled a bit. _Took you by surprise, didn't I?_ Her victorious smirk, however, was short-lived when she heard him chuckling.

"The bathroom's down the hall, to your left."

Cagalli resisted the urge to give him the finger for waiting for her to take the wrong turn before telling her where his bathroom was located, but it was harder to hold on to her dignity as she paused to change directions.

With her face hot from all the blood that had rushed to her cheeks, it was with a sigh of relief when she splashed her face with cold running water from the lavatory faucet. And after retrieving a fluffy white towel from the cabinet to her right, and after glaring at the bathrobes that should have been, in her opinion, kept in his bedroom armoire, she stepped under the rain-like spray of the shower.

She eyed the shampoo bottle with distaste. Her hair wasn't naturally soft and silky as she wanted it to be, so she usually needed to use the shampoo her stylist prescribed her to use. Of course, she wouldn't normally be bothered by this, but Damien had conned her into taking a hairstylist, and her hairstylist was a hard shell to crack and a bossy bitch worse than Damien himself. Good thing she liked him right off the bat, gay bitchiness and all.

With no other options presenting themselves, Cagalli grudgingly squeezed a fair amount of shampoo on her palm before lathering up her hair. And if it were her bathroom and she were at home, she'd gladly spend an hour under the spray or run the tub and soak in it until she was pruny. Sadly, though, it wasn't her bathroom to hog, and the faster she got her shower done, the faster she could scurry away from this apartment.

And from him.

When she was sure that she was suds-free and that she had washed off the sticky feeling brought about by the obscene intake of alcoholic beverages, she toweled herself dry then wrapped herself up in the bathrobe she had retrieved from the cabinet. And without another thought, she grabbed the spare toothbrush from the sink, ripped off its covering, used his toothpaste, then brushed away the cottony feel in her mouth.

As soon as she was convinced that she felt confident enough in her own skin, she steadied herself and took a deep breath. Time to face Athrun and hope that he'd forgotten what he'd told her last night.

"Where are my clothes?" she demanded as soon as she entered his room and found him reclining on the bed and reading a book. That gave her hope. It was too mundane a thing to do that she just had to believe he'd forgotten his promise.

"I sent them to the cleaners."

"Why would you do that? I need my clothes!" she burst out, now feeling very vulnerable in just his bathrobe with nothing underneath and angry that he had thought of that.

The rakish smile he sent her way alarmed her as much as it sent the hairs on her arms standing on end. Fluidly, he set the book on the bedside table and stood up from the bed, approaching her in that nonchalant manner of his. She knew better than to believe it.

Despite how she braced herself, her breath caught in her throat before she could protest when he reached for the ties of the white robe. She should slug him. Slug him good. But his proximity kept her in place, like a rogue energy she couldn't fight off, and always losing a battle against him was getting to her nerves. It was too bad that she couldn't do anything to improve her situation.

Or maybe, on some unconscious level, she didn't want to?

"I assure you, you wouldn't be needing them anytime soon."

Cagalli could avow that he had just purred that out. Purred. And her knees practically trembled in response. Such treachery from her own body caused her to bristle inwardly. She was a grown-up — not some sex-deprived teenager — and she should have learned to control her own reactions.

"Look," she started when she found her voice, though she was in danger of losing her tenuous grasp on its edges. "Last…night…last…" She couldn't pin down her much needed coherence with him looking at her like that.

She cleared her throat and tried again, "I was…too drunk. I didn't know what I was doing…"

He patiently plucked away at the fingers keeping the robe closed. "Did you know that alcohol chases away inhibitions? Hm?" He stared at her eyes as he kept tugging on her stubborn fingers.

Cagalli might have found something to refute that if he hadn't started teasing the sensitive flesh of her ear, trailing down her neck and darting out a wandering tongue at the juncture that connected her neck and shoulder. Her addled thoughts grew more scattered when he finally succeeded in opening her robe with a silent whisper — _ineffectual_ — and letting warm fingers feather over slightly damp skin.

"I make good on my promises, Cagalli," he whispered between small bites on an elegant shoulder, his hand gradually making their way upwards, leaving searing trails in their wake.

Promises. What promise? The haze she was fast being pulled into prohibited her from thinking straight, and the events from last night were pretty far away from her now that if he were referring to any of them, she had no chance of remembering it. Especially since he was tracing lazy patterns on the side of her breast with one hand while the other progressively ran to her shoulder to push away the garment.

He pressed himself more intimately against her. "You want this, too."

It behooved Cagalli to take a deep, cleansing breath to steady the static in her head, the static that he was evoking from her senses. "It's…unfair to…to ask me that…now." And it really was, because the way he was kissing inches of exposed skin rendered her intellectually incapacitated.

"I'm not asking. I'm telling." He idled at the corner of her mouth, then he inched away just to see what he had reduced her to. The bastard.

Cagalli took that opportunity to herd the remaining sensibilities that were threatening to flee if she didn't keep a tight rein on them. "Stop." She wouldn't be able to find a reason for trying to stop him even if her life depended on it, and she bitterly wondered if she was trying to order him or convince herself that she didn't want what was happening.

"No. Not even if you beg."

That was when it clicked, and she remembered about the promise he was alluding to. If she had planned on replying to that, the words died in her throat even before her mind could take a hold of them when he finally shoved the robe off her shoulders and let his hands unabashedly roam over sensitized skin to slide the fabric away. She hissed when fingertips ghosted over her hips with the intent of going farther south.

"No more talking."

This time, Cagalli eagerly agreed, and she responded in kind when he attacked her mouth, licking her lower lip before letting his tongue explore inside, gliding over blunt teeth and stealing her breath away.

The heat that had begun to curl in her lower abdomen grew and spread, alighting every nerve ending and spurring her careless abandon in trying to get him as naked as she was with one hand while the other was hopelessly entangled with his hair, keeping him in place, as if afraid that he would pull away.

Athrun apprehended her wandering hand, closing his fingers around hers, then he laid a kiss on her wrist, teasing, darting his tongue towards the rising pulse, and Cagalli didn't think such an obscure part could stir her already heightening arousal.

With his free hand sensuously sliding down her outer thigh, he brought the leg up and Cagalli instinctively wrapped it around his hips, and the harsh whisper of the cloth of his pants against her sex when he leaned in to nip at her throat caused her to hiss, arching towards him and closing the gap that was already non-existent.

The only sound Cagalli could hear was the beating of her own blood, rising and pumping and violent against her ears as she felt his warm mouth following a trail from her neck — pausing to lick at the hollow of her throat — to the vale of her breasts. She could feel it. Cagalli could feel how warm and wet she was getting, and he was still fully clothed, and the basest of instincts dictated that she divest him of his clothing, but her limbs were limp, her breathing ragged, her thoughts so scattered, and the only things she could concentrate on were the primal sensations that twisted and fluttered inside her as he swirled his tongue around a puckered bud.

"Ath…run…" She uselessly clutched at his shoulders, as if that alone could steady her wobbliness, and if it weren't for the fact that Athrun had her against the wall, she would have slumped to the ground in a puddle of hormones.

As if he'd finally considered the pleading in her voice, his left hand skirted down her feverish skin, going farther south until his fingers brushed against the curls and still he didn't stop, making her gasp. The pressure between her legs made her want to close her thighs, but her right leg was still hitched on his hip, and when she tried to bring it down, he used his free hand to keep it in place. In a slow caress, he slid the same hand up her thigh, to her slim waist, to the side of a breast, until he was cradling her head. He let his lips brush across hers as the fingers of his other hand deftly stroked and teased and flicked.

Cagalli let a breathy sigh escape her lips before she pressed her mouth against his in a demandingly consuming kiss. All passionate, and hot, and raw, but inevitably short because the tension in her belly was being wound tighter and tighter, and his fingers were mercilessly drawing different kinds of emotions and sensations and heat, and she couldn't breathe.

"Ath…Athrun…" Cagalli moaned, breath coming out in short and harsh pants as Athrun worked her up in an uncontrollable sexual frenzy. She was almost there, clenching as he hit the right spot again and again, and the tingles stayed and spread as she climbed higher and higher.

When he dropped the hand cradling her head to cover her breast, claimed her mouth in another hungry kiss like a man starved, and thrust his fingers once more, Cagalli shivered around him, tearing her mouth free, and arching towards him in a sexually responsive action as he corralled her in a furor of the basest of pleasures. She threw her head back as a satisfied moan whipped out of her throat.

Athrun held her close while she rode wave after wave of her orgasm, favoring her neck and shoulders butterfly kisses and occasionally letting his tongue run over the saline taste of her skin.

When Cagalli felt a semblance of calm return to her, she lowered her hitched leg from his hip, raised her head, and used her hands to make him look at her. She witnessed a strained smile — she could guess why that was — and a cocky glint in his eyes.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"You bastard." He looked fairly amused. "What's the big deal getting me naked as the day I was born while you friggin' keep your clothes on?" She really was kind of pissed despite what he had just let her experience, and as retribution, she ran her hand over his pants-covered arousal, smirking when he groaned. "Is that a banana in your pants or are you just excited to see me?"

In spite of himself, Athrun allowed a low chuckle, leaning in to nibble at the tip of her ear. "Didn't peg you as a cliché-sort of girl, but you're too sexy so I'll let that pass."

"Bastard," she half-heartedly jeered, blushing at the obvious compliment. "We'll see if you're still laughing if I leave you in _that_ state." A tongue traced the contour of her earlobe, and something that had just been satiated inside of her stirred.

"I doubt you're gonna do such thing."

Cagalli felt the urge to confute his statement, but he started kissing the skin over her pulse, and she could faintly feel the slight stickiness that still covered his fingers, but that paled in comparison to the ghostly touches that were re-igniting the flame that had just been doused. So she moved. Before pleasure rendered her too limp to move again, she gently pushed him off her, her slim fingers darting to the edge of his pullover.

"You know, Athrun, you're annoying as hell, and if there was one thing that perfectly describes you, it's annoying," she glibly voiced out, pushing him back towards the bed while getting rid of his pullover and trying to ignore the wobbly feeling in her legs. "You think you're God's gift to women, but guess what? You're not! And you're annoying," she went on, even though her voice pitched higher at the sight of sinewy muscles that responded when she touched his skin. She worked his pants after she was successful in discarding his sweater. "Sexy, yes, but still annoying. Annoying, and arrogant, and a jerk!"

"That's more than one thing," he interrupted, smiling that amused smile as he watched her get worked up in her diatribe as much as get caught up in undressing him.

She snapped at him, making a biting sound. "Shut up or I'll bite you." She roughly pushed him onto the bed as soon as she got his pants and boxers out of the way. "You made me stutter on more than one occasion. You made me catch my breath even if I didn't want to. And now you're gonna pay because nobody has ever done that to me before, you bastard! And stop smiling! You're not supposed to smile, you arrogant jerk!"

Athrun didn't pay her heed, and when she languidly crawled on top of him, making sure to brush against his erection on her way up, he reached a hand to touch her, which she promptly slapped away. She sat imperiously on his stomach, smirking at him.

"No touching. Just deserts and all that."

Despite her admonition, his hand crept up her thigh, and she glared at him, seizing the violating appendage and pinning it above his head together with his other hand. Cagalli was now leaning on him, and she fought the hiss that threatened to spill from her lips at the contact of hardened nipples against a defined chest.

"Naughty boy. You see, Zala, we're gonna do this my way. A payback of sorts."

"Payback for something I haven't done?"

Cagalli huffed as Athrun blinked at her too innocently considering his position and what he actually did to her prior their current situation. "No talking. Didn't you listen?"

Athrun just smirked, ignoring the yellow curtain of her hair that tickled the sides of his face, and without the slightest caveat, he lifted his head and captured her mouth. Cagalli was caught in a whirlwind of sensations, but she remembered what she was supposed to do and she quickly pulled away, scowling at him. When he openly chuckled at her flushed face, she dove back in and kissed him senseless, feeling proud of herself when she felt the soft rumble of a suppressed groan. Spurred on by the satisfied sound, Cagalli nipped her way down his jaw, pausing to lick and tease the pulsing vein in his jugular, then pursuing the defined collarbone and down the hard planes of his chest.

Cagalli was self-indulgently gratified at the feeling of finally being in control. He reacted when she nipped, groaned when she sucked, sighed when she kissed, corded muscles rippling wherever she touched. She was on top, and he was going to pay for his seemingly relentless pursuit of putting her in situations she didn't want to be in. If he thought she would just let him get his way all the time, she was very willing to do almost anything to disabuse him of that notion — by leaps and bounds.

A playful nip on his lower lip garnered Cagalli a repressed groan, and she was managing very well in teasing him when an obnoxious tinkle made its way to her ears. Athrun seemed to have heard it, too, but when her eyes suddenly focused at the interruption, he grabbed her wandering hand and reversed their positions. Cagalli let out a surprised cry before scowling at the man atop her when she realized what happened.

The same tinkle resonated once again inside his apartment, and Cagalli noticed the chime-like quality, that was just a tad darker and deeper, with more clarity now that the fog in her brain dispersed a little at being upended from her previous position. She also noticed the slight furrowing of his brow as the doorbell rang again, his movements becoming a tad more impatient and less considerate than a while ago.

When the doorbell hit another note, lucidity almost fully returned to Cagalli, and that childish imp in her told her to make good of her threat a while ago. Athrun definitely didn't seem charitable at being interrupted, and even though it was more tempting to ignore the disruption and focus on the warm body atop her, Cagalli wouldn't be Cagalli if she played by the rules.

_Payback time._

With a coy smile that was fast threatening to falter as Athrun continued his assault on her senses, Cagalli placed firm hands against his shoulders to push him back. "The door." She didn't mean for that to come out as a moan, but he had pushed his knee towards her sex, and the sensation just about stole her wits.

"Ignore it," Athrun replied, tone clipped as he rendered her arms incapacitated by securing them above her head, much like what she did to him a while ago.

Cagalli just about gave in, but her stubbornness got in the way, and she squirmed and shifted until she heard Athrun give an exasperated sigh. She didn't blame him for his short fuse; after all, she could feel just how aroused he was and the ringing of the doorbell wasn't helping his situation any.

She thought it was perfect.

Being heavily distracted by the incessant ringing, it took Cagalli little effort to reverse their positions and straddle a quite stunned Athrun. She kissed him hard then abruptly withdrew, jumping off the bed and leaving him even more frustrated. "I told you that you wouldn't be laughing when I leave you in _that_ state," she taunted then picked up the discarded robe before exiting the room with a smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

Running a hand through her damp hair and wishing that she looked decent enough, her victorious smirk slipped a little as her body reminded her of its condition. The only thing that still allowed her to keep a semblance of her original smugness was the knowledge that it was easier to ignore raging hormones when one was a woman.

She opened the door after looking through the peephole, and upon receiving her dry cleaning and tipping the guy — who looked like the universal newbie on a job — with a few stray dollars from Athrun's hallway table, she almost laughed her head off when she heard the bedroom door bang open and the bathroom door slam shut shortly after.

_Serves you right, you jerk!_

**x-x-x-x-x**


	9. VIII: The One With All The Talking

Title: Play of the Fates (8 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited, and beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

"You know, knocking is like a higher form of etiquette," Cagalli deadpanned before popping a green M&M in her mouth.

Miriallia closed the door behind her, glancing at the blonde who was poking her head from the kitchen door. "Well, what did you give me your keys for?"

"What if I had someone over and we're getting naughty on the floor, would you really wanna see that?" Cagalli continued, still in her argument about knocking.

"Would _you _really be getting naughty on the floor?"

"And what are you implying?" Cagalli narrowed her eyes.

"Because you aren't sexually deviant and I think sex on the floor would be too much of a deviant act for you," Miriallia stated matter-of-factly.

"…I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment."

"Compliment."

"_Now_ I know it was an insult!"

Miriallia sniffed haughtily. "Such a good, trusting friend you are."

Cagalli laughed. "Touchy." She beckoned Miriallia over, offering her bag of chocolates to the brunette. "So, how's your arm? How's your mom?"

Miriallia cast a distasteful glance at her healing arm. "Aside from this itchy cast, I'm pretty fine. And I'm visiting mom in the hospital before dinner." She glared at Cagalli who was frowning at her nonchalant reply. "And _no_, I don't need a shrink to get me through the trauma, mainly because I'm not, in any form, traumatized."

"I'm not saying anything."

"Sure."

"Hey, it was Damien who suggested that!"

"Yeah, yeah." Miriallia glanced around the spotless kitchen. "Have you had lunch yet? I'm starved." She munched on the colorful M&Ms as Cagalli retrieved a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator.

"Damien said he'd be coming over and bringing lunch, so I'm scarfing down M&Ms to tide me over. Want a glass?"

"Yes, please."

There was silence after that, occasionally disturbed by the sound of glass gently hitting the granite counter as Cagalli settled two glasses of cold juice on the shiny ledge.

"There's something off with you," Miriallia observed after washing down the sweet taste of chocolate with the semi-bitter tang of fresh orange juice.

"No, there's none," Cagalli automatically refuted, trying to look innocent and unaffected. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been trying to fight off a grin since I arrived. You don't smile when you're hungry."

Cagalli glared ineffectively at her friend, finishing her drink to delay answering, since she really didn't have anything to say about Miriallia's observations.

"You got laid, didn't you?" Cagalli almost choked on her juice. "I was in pain and you were getting laid," Miriallia almost sounded like she was offended.

Cagalli scoffed, unconsciously rubbing the bruise on her hipbone, the one she got before Athrun had decided that he'd let her sleep off her intoxication. "Honey, you weren't in pain. You were wolfing down pain killer after pain killer. And I didn't get laid. Stop harassing me." In truth, she didn't get laid, at least, not in that sense. And yesterday's events weren't supposed to make her giddy, but they did, and that was because she had finally given him a taste of his own medicine. Yes, that was it. If she were lucky, he'd take that as a hint and leave her be. There was no love lost between them, and it would be better for her if she could just forget how sexy Athrun was. And it wasn't as if they connected at any other level besides sexual interests.

Miriallia's brow furrowed instinctively at the pet name before deciding to ignore it. "Tell me, Cagalli, you hooked up with someone at that fashion show, didn't you?"

"How'd you know I was even there?" Cagalli demanded, thrown off the loop at the mention of that god-forsaken event.

"Like I don't work for a magazine! Even if I didn't get to cover it because of my accident, I still got the news when I visited the office to file for sick leave. That girl who covered for me told me you weren't just attending; you were _participating_." Miriallia smiled amusedly as Cagalli blushed bright red.

The only thing that saved Cagalli from answering was the loud announcement of the arrival of a certain person they had been waiting for, and Cagalli thanked her lucky stars because it took the attention off her. Hopefully, it would remain that way in the duration of their lunch.

"Good thing I bought more than enough for two," Damien started upon entering the kitchen and seeing Miriallia. "What's up, luv? How's the arm? And how's mum?"

Cagalli sometimes forgot that Damien was half-European, spending the better part of his years in England before moving to Orb, mostly because despite his accent, he talked like a regular Orb citizen. It was only during times when his "u" was more pronounced than the regular "o" that she noticed.

"Recovering. Both cases," Miriallia answered.

"Good to hear that. At least now you don't look like death warmed over!" He then proceeded to plunk the to-go bags he was carrying on the table. "I had a meeting in bum fuck Egypt, and the only saving grace of it was that the restaurant we ate at actually served good food. The best thing that happened today!" he sighed melodramatically, flicking an errant strand of black hair away from his eyes.

Of course, his foreign upbringing was more obvious whenever he used phrases like "bum fuck Egypt" that didn't remotely make any sense to her side of the globe. Cagalli inwardly rolled her eyes.

"Not too refined to curse, huh?" Miriallia amusedly voiced.

"It's not a curse, per se—"

Cagalli laughed. "Save it. Slangy European doesn't have room in our vocabulary."

Damien just shrugged.

"What do you have here for us?" Miriallia asked, stifling her giggles as she began to take the foam containers out of the paper bags while Cagalli gathered the plates and cutleries.

"I thought I'd try a little bit of everything. Well, almost everything." He opened one polystyrene container after another. "I've got seafood risotto, veal scaloppini, baked salmon roulade, and Cornish game hen with blackberry sauce. Tempting little dishes, hn?" He opened the last container with a flourish. "Quaint," he commented offhand, before turning towards Cagalli. "And I didn't forget that orange cream cheesecake you wanted."

"Sweet," Cagalli grinned, offering the plates and cutleries to her friends. "You always remember, Damien. I should marry you!"

"Well, get me a ring first."

Miriallia just shook her head. "You and your sugar. I swear, if you get diabetes, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised!"

"Diabetes is hereditary," Cagalli scoffed.

"Wow, what era are you in? Soviet?" Miriallia countered, smirking when Cagalli grimaced.

Damien angled his head, looking almost thoughtful. "And don't you know how much calories you're packing with every bite?"

"Calories which I _burn_ easily enough whenever you force me into jogging with you in the morning," Cagalli jabbed a finger in the European's direction. "Not to mention the times you drag me in your shopping sprees. Can we get off my case, now?"

"Fine, but don't hate me if I tell you 'I told you so' when you start needing insulin shots."

"Or when you start needing bigger sizes."

Cagalli didn't honestly know whether to laugh or be annoyed at their opposite concerns, which, if truth be told, she didn't think would be coming true anytime soon. "Remember me just having asked you guys to get off my case?" She rolled her eyes. "_Anyway_, I've a problem I need help with."

"Go on," Damien prompted, spoon full of risotto halfway to his mouth.

"There's this event at work that I need to look a place for. It's in a week's time. So far, all the places I've called are booked. I'm in knee-deep shit, and I'm going no where."

Damien chewed thoughtfully before speaking, "Formal?"

"Yeah," Cagalli replied, following Damien's train of thought. Damien owned a chain of the best steakhouses in Orb, and if the event she was preparing for weren't a formal party, she would have asked him earlier if she could hold the fort in one of his establishments.

"How about your swanky hotel?" Miriallia suggested, enjoying her baked salmon roulade.

Since his restaurant chain was a success, Damien had decided to venture into the hotel chain business. Although he had only one hotel as of now, he was in the process of expanding; his second establishment was already under construction.

"The Dominion's booked three ways to Sunday. All ballrooms are either going to be housing debutantes or weddings. Oh, not to mention other charity functions. Even the rooftop's hosting an MTV party!"

"Yeah, damn that hotel of yours! That's the first one I called, and dig this, yours was contracted earlier than the Freedom Metropolis! You lucky bastard!" Cagalli pointed her fork at him.

"Say, isn't Matt a member of this certain country club — what's the name again?" Miriallia piped in, playing with her food as she tried to recall the name of the country club.

Cagalli instantly brightened. "Of course! Lesseps Country Club! How could I forget? He's just invited me play golf with him this coming Tuesday!"

Lesseps Country Club was one of the most exclusive social clubs in the outskirts of the city, housing a grand clubhouse, an Olympic-sized pool, two tennis courts, and a well-manicured golf course to boot.

"Now that that's solved, let's go to the _other_ problem at hand," Miriallia wasted no time in steering their conversation to another topic.

Cagalli eyed her weirdly. "We have another problem?"

"Yeah. We haven't solved whether a certain Athha did leave the Clyne fashion show with someone!"

"I just bought the edition of _Orb Aesthete_ featuring last week's catwalk spotlight! _Eternal Haute Couture_, wasn't it?" Then he turned towards Cagalli with eyes wide, just now processing what Miriallia had said. "Oh! _You_ were there? _Why_ didn't you tell us?" Damien grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"She wasn't just there — she was _a part of it_!"

When Damien went to retrieve the magazine from another paper bag, and when Miriallia couldn't stop teasing her, Cagalli just knew it behooved her to come up with believable lies…and fast.

**o-o**

"Not that I think your company is unwelcome," his tone said otherwise, "but why are you here? Again?" Athrun shut the door behind him.

"Believe it or not, I'm here on business," Dearka easily replied.

"It's Sunday."

"Some car dealers do business on Sundays, and this is one of the few. And you're one to talk. At least _I _came here to buy; _you _came here to work," Dearka easily quipped, gesturing towards the red expandable envelope in Athrun's hands. "You bloody poof."

Athrun held back an exasperated sigh as he ignored the slur. If he were quick to have his fuse lit, he would be close to pulling an Yzak at every petty insult Dearka was fond of throwing at him. He wasn't quite in the best of moods to be dealing with an arrogant ass like Dearka today, considering what happened yesterday. That one he didn't expect. He should have known that a woman like Cagalli wouldn't take his teasing as lightly as every other girl because, frankly, she was in a league of her own.

"I really wish we were better strangers."

Dearka laughed, not minding the slight derision in Athrun's tone. "See, troubles in bed shouldn't be brought to the office."

If Athrun hadn't known Dearka for a long time, he'd be surprised at how close Dearka had gotten to his current problem, but since they'd been friends since college, he knew Dearka _always _found it amusing to affront his behind-the-scenes activities. His or Yzak's; he stopped taking jabs at Kira's when he started going out with Lacus. Either way, Dearka was just too cocky for his own good.

He chose to ignore the blonde this time. "The GAT-X series showroom is downstairs. That's what you came for. Go." Athrun was known for his even disposition, but even the calmest and least likely to get ruffled individual could only take so much — yesterday just happened to be his limit, and it might take a while for him to re-collect himself, or, at least, some favorable arrangement or event that could lift his mood.

"Grouchy," Dearka simplistically observed, not moving from his seat, which, apparently, was Athrun's office chair. Athrun would never understand why Dearka couldn't just sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk or even the couch for that matter. "Kira wanted Lacus to take a break, and since she likes to play golf, he's inviting us to Lesseps this Tuesday afternoon. We're going this Tuesday. Asked me to ask you to come," he changed the subject. "Though, in my opinion, _I_ should be the one doing the inviting around here seeing as _I'm_ the member and not any of you."

"I can't make it," Athrun mechanically replied, dumping the thick envelope on the polished table and crossing his arms, hoping that his countenance could get through Dearka's self-absorbed barrier and make him leave.

"Of course. Oh, but I've done my part," Dearka sighed dramatically, too energetic and impertinent for Athrun's taste. "Kira says Lacus'll call to check." Getting up from his comfortable position, he ran a hand through his carefully mussed-up hair. "Well, I'll see you on Tuesday, man." Then he was out the door without another word.

Athrun sighed at the tone Dearka had used. Just how many people knew he found it hard to say no to Lacus? The woman had carefully claimed a piece of his heart, and he was too much of a softy to get it back. Either that, or… He sighed. He didn't really want to think about the other possibility.

And neither did he believe it.

His phone rang, and since his secretary wasn't in today, the call wasn't diverted to the desk outside his office. Despite what Dearka believed, he didn't have work on Sundays. He just needed to pick up a parcel that he'd left in his office last Friday, and the red envelope was from one of the company lawyers asking him to go over the latest documents for approval, which he didn't exactly have to do until Monday.

"Hello?" he not only forgot the standard greeting for any call received by the company — as he hardly ever picked up the phone himself, and acting executives didn't necessarily answer the phone the same way other employees did — but he also forgot to modulate his tone, leaving a bitter air hanging. He almost winced, but because politeness had been drilled in his head since the moment he could talk, he easily recovered. At least, he would have, had the person on the other end of the line not giggled.

"_You're not very cheerful today, are you?"_

"Good afternoon to you, too, Lacus." When Lacus sighed, he could almost see her shaking her head.

"_Anyway, I tried your mobile, but you weren't answering."_

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I left it in the car."

"_So, is Dearka there?"_

"He just left," he answered, rummaging through his drawers for that little parcel he came back for. When he got his fingers around the inconspicuous parcel, he turned his attention back to the phone. "Anyway, I can't make it." When he told Dearka that he wouldn't be able to go, he wasn't entirely lying. "I have a meeting, and it's been re-scheduled already, so no can do, Lacus." It was one of the meetings he had re-catalogued to be able to attend Lacus' fashion show last Friday. What he wasn't about to tell her though was that the meeting was a luncheon, and, to the best of his knowledge, he had a free afternoon.

"_Oh. Is that so? Well, if, by chance, the meeting ends early or it doesn't push through, can you promise me you'll go? We barely see you, Athrun. Only about thrice since you landed."_

"Yes, Lacus." This time, Athrun winced — he'd just automatically answered without thinking. There he went again, unable to say no.

"_Thanks, Athrun! Kira and I'll see you there!"_

"Yeah. Bye." Lacus was just so optimistically happy that it was hard to deny her anything, especially if it were something as simple as spending time. Yes, that was it. And maybe, if he were done nursing his bruised ego, he'd come. After all, something as _trivial_ as what Cagalli had done shouldn't be affecting him much, especially since she had just notched higher in his little amusement scale. Nobody had ever done that to him before — thankfully — and Cagalli was proving to be more and more different the more time he spent with her.

Standing up and inserting the parcel in his coat pocket, he sighed. She was clever — he'd give her that — putting him in such a situation then pulling a stunt he didn't think he'd ever be subjected to. And now that he clearly thought about it, he couldn't anymore justify why he was in a bad mood; he should've expected something like that from her, and he should've known better than to approach her in the same manner.

Knowing his luck in meeting people in the most unlikely of places, he thought that maybe he would go to Lesseps this Tuesday — the cosmic blueprint might have it in its plans to have him meet with Cagalli again in the golf club. Highly unlikely, but there was always that teeny-tiny possibility. So, all right, he would go, so long as his schedule remained permitting.

Athrun Zala shut the door to his office.

**xxxxx**

Reference/s: (to refresh your memory, if for nothing else)

Lesseps Country Club is named after Andrew Waltfeld's forces' flagship, Lesseps. It's a ZAFT ship named after Ferdinand de Lesseps, a 19th century French diplomat. (GundamOfficial . com)

I have a question. Do I have a distinct style of writing? Because I seriously don't think I do. I mean, some authors, when you read their works, you just know it's them who wrote it. When I re-read the things I've written, it's like, "okay, who wrote this?" Man, I gotta work harder! Blech. ;p


	10. IX: The One Where Athrun Is Politely Mad

Title: Play of the Fates (9 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

Sometimes, she pitied herself. She was such a pushover. Cagalli pressed her hands down the front of her dress to keep the skirt from being blown up as a gust of wind rolled by — it was the dress her supposed friends forced her to wear because, according to them, expansive grassy lawns should be graced by women in dresses. Their logic wasn't always reliable and _logical_, but their combined power of persuasion was unrivalled, especially when there was the threat of bodily harm.

_Some friends…_

She had grown from her days of hating wearing dresses, but she usually limited them to gowns that needed to be worn in some formal event or cocktail dresses that only needed to be worn once in a blue moon because she could almost always get away with a business suit, either in a corporate skirt or a pantsuit. On some occasions, she might even agree to wear practical dresses when she had yet to retrieve her dry-cleaning. What she was wearing today, however, was a sleeveless, white, puffy confection with a French blue sash ribboned at the waist and a matching pair of blue flats. This was Jennifer-Love-Hewitt-kind of cute, and she didn't do _any_ kind of cute. The only saving grace of the hideously cute dress was that it was clean lines everywhere — no laces, no ruffles — but still, she hated it with a passion. Matt had taken one good look at her and had decided that he would be the only one teeing off this afternoon.

"Your hat's been blown away," Matt mock-seriously said, adjusting his glove as he followed the arc of the ball as it sailed through the air.

Cagalli rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. Aside from stealing her chances of golfing — and a brief disbelieving inquiry about her participation in a certain fashion show that _Orb Aesthete _apparently covered — Matt had also been teasing her about her nonexistent wide-brimmed sun hat that he said should have been on her head to complete her outfit. Of course, he'd laughed at her silly that if he weren't her friend, he'd be pulling his golf clubs from where the sun didn't shine.

"I swear, I look like a Stepford wife," she dispiritedly observed.

Matt chuckled, clamping a gentle hand by her elbow and pulling her towards the golf cart. "You look fine. Pretty. Like frosted cake."

"Ha-ha, very funny, Matt. You know what, you should fire Miriallia. She was one of two who forced me into this. I didn't even know I had a dress like this!" It was true. She didn't think she'd ever buy a dress this cute unless she was bribed, or crazy, which she had probably been since she did have it in her closet.

"I think I should change her department. Put her maybe in the fashion column. She did a good job on you." He winked at her.

"Wow, thanks. You make it sound like I'm usually a fashion disaster."

Matt turned the ignition then drove off down the path. "It's not that, but they say that a girl has to wear her skirts sometimes," he replied, chuckling at the frown on his former employee's face.

"You're a chauvinistic pig, Matt, let me tell you that," she glared at him, but Matt only laughed at her.

"So, kid, how are you?"

"Fine, fine. A little stressed out, but fine."

"You don't look stressed out in that little sundress of yours."

"Give it a rest, Matt," Cagalli exasperatedly replied.

Matt tried to suppress his chuckles. "All right, all right."

"By the way, who's your new secretary?"

Matt shrugged. "Still Sheila. Haven't held interviews for another. And let me tell you, I think she's loving the fact that she doesn't have any competition."

Cagalli giggled at Matt's conspiratorial tone, but then she glared at him, albeit a touch playfully. "And you thought you needed another one when it was just me? And now that it's just her, she's suddenly efficient enough? I'm offended, Matt. Deeply so." She placed a hand on her heart for effect.

Matt reached out a hand to pet her hair. "You weren't really the best secretary, cupcake, no offense."

Cagalli didn't know whether to get offended by the slur or by the nickname, which was really a jab at her outfit. She swore Matt was having a field trip at her expense, and she swore she was going to get Miriallia and Damien for this. "Tell me, at which jeer should I be offended?"

This time, Matt didn't hold back his laughter. "You're very easy to tease, do you know that? You know you were a good employee, and stop worrying over your dress. It's rare _anyone_ gets to see you in something like that, so allow me my moment of fun."

Cagalli waved a breezy hand. "Whatever, Matt. Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you, and it would be _really_ great if you could grant me it."

"And what do I get in return?"

"For real?" Cagalli seemed skeptical.

This time, it was Matt who sighed exasperatedly. "I'm kidding, Cagalli," he uttered slowly, as if talking to a child. "What do you want?"

Cagalli explained her problem and how she needed a place to hold her benefit, stressing how pressed she was for time.

"Isn't this place a little out of the way? It's out of the city."

"I know, but all the acceptable places in the city are booked. I was thinking, since this place is classy and swanky enough for those snooty bastards that are attending the benefit, it'll do."

"Snooty bastards?"

"I'm exaggerating, okay? But those events mostly consist of people who are too rich and want public applause so they go to charity benefits like this one."

Uzumi Athha's company always held a bi-annual charity event that sponsored a few children's foundation. If there were anything that Cagalli liked in her father's company, it was this thoughtful event, but at the same time, Cagalli hated the pretentious way some big-shots attended and flaunted their capability to extend their wealth to the needy when they were really just doing it not out of sympathy but out of pride smeared with arrogance. Those were the type of people that was permanently on Cagalli's hate list.

"And, since I'm asking you this, I thought I'd let _your_ magazine cover this event." Cagalli smiled.

"Hm, that's a good deal."

"Of course. And it's easier for me, too, since I wouldn't have to talk to other publishing executives to request for pages."

Matt chuckled. "So it's not really out of the goodness of your hear that you're doing this. More like, 'let's take advantage of the fact that I'm friends with Matt'."

Cagalli shrugged. "Eh, all for the sake of convenience."

"Cheeky blob of icing."

Cagalli started then paused as if to re-consider. "Huh, guess what, I'll let that pass. I have a place to hold my benefit, so tease away. I don't care."

**o-o**

Lacus poured tea for Dearka as the blonde golf player took a seat near the polished wooden railing of the patio. Kira sat beside her, discussing something with Yzak who was too impeccably dressed just for an afternoon round of golf. He had explained earlier to Kira and Lacus that he had just come from a photo shoot and hadn't had time to change since if he stayed longer at the studio, he'd have more unwanted cameras flashing at him; he was chosen to be the advertising personality behind the new and exclusive men's perfume, and he hadn't been paparazzi-free for a whole week already. Even at work, he was being hounded. It was only his luck that Lesseps Country Club had tight security and respected the privacy of its members and its members' guests.

"Athrun really didn't come, did he?" Dearka asked, popping a tea biscuit in his mouth then wiping his fingers with the cream-colored serviette.

Lacus sat back with her own cup of tea. "Well, not yet, but he promised me he'll come if he finishes early."

"I bet he did!" Dearka laughed.

"What time are we teeing off?" Kira piped in.

"Let's see…" Dearka started, looking thoughtful. "Maybe when Yzak realizes we're here to play golf and not to attend a gala," he continued in a jibe, every inch the smartass he grew up to be.

"Piss off, Elsman," Yzak spitefully replied. "Excuse me, Lacus, let me go change."

Once Yzak was safely out of earshot, Dearka turned towards the engaged couple in front of him. "Why's he looking so formal anyway?"

Kira chuckled. "He was so pissed a while ago that Lacus had to calm him down first. That's when he realized he had a change of clothes in his car. He just came from a photo shoot, by the way."

"Why'd he not change after?" When Lacus giggled, Dearka understood. "Oh…I get it. That new commercial's rearing its ugly head, huh?"

"I suppose you can put it that way," Lacus replied, shaking her head. "Oh by the way, Dearka, thanks for letting us abuse your membership."

Dearka waved an airy hand. "You're always here, so the staff already knows you're my guests, even if it's _Kira_ who actually invited _me_ instead of the other way around. _Really_, you guys are welcome."

"You know what, Dearka, one day, that sarcasm will come and haunt you," Kira quipped, shaking his head.

The retort was stolen from Dearka's mouth when he heard a familiar-sounding laugh nearby, and when he turned around to look, he saw her coming up the patio stairs, talking animatedly with a sharp-looking man. "Cagalli!" he called, and he could almost hear Yzak's mother reprimanding him for his rude interruption of another's conversation, especially since he didn't know one of the parties. He'd grown up with just his father, but since he had been friends with Yzak since they were kids, he'd been subjected to Ezalia Jule's incorruptible sense of propriety — that woman was a tough nut to crack when it came to etiquette, and if Yzak hadn't known Dearka, the fair head would probably be walking a chalk line that would make his dear mother burst with pride.

Cagalli seemed surprised for a second before turning to face him and giving him a big smile. She gestured to her companion, and when he nodded, the pair made their way towards Dearka's table.

"Hello there, luv," Dearka stood up and made a show of kissing Cagalli on the nose.

Cagalli rolled her eyes, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. "Matt, this is Dearka, and those two are Lacus and Kira," she introduced, motioning at the respective persons. "This is Matthew Atwood, my former boss."

Matt, like the gentleman that he was, shook hands with the three of them. "Ms. Clyne, is it? And Mr. Yamato? I've heard of the engagement. Congratulations."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Lacus beamed.

Cagalli giggled at Kira's puzzled expression. "He knows because he owns one of the magazines that published your engagement story."

"Ah, of course," Kira smiled.

"Why don't you join us for tea, Cagalli, Mr. Atwood?" Lacus offered.

"Thanks, Lacus, but we both have to return to our offices already," Cagalli declined. "We were just on a business meeting."

"Be bad, Cagalli, and skip work," Dearka plainly said. "It's a fine afternoon for tea and tee." He chuckled at his own joke. "Besides, Matthew — assuming your whole name _is _Matthew — won't report you to your superiors, will he?"

Matt laughed. "Yes, yes, it is, and don't worry, I won't," he easily replied, inducing the rest to laugh as well.

"Funny, Matt," Cagalli deadpanned, casting an inconspicuous eye around.

"Looking for someone?" Dearka asked, his tone between teasing and simple curiosity.

Cagalli's breath hitched, then she slid into an easy smile after noticing that it was only she and Dearka who were paying attention to the turn of the conversation as the three others moved to a new topic. "You would think, huh?"

Dearka shook his head before flashing Cagalli a roguish grin. "Cheeky imp."

"Ha, takes one to know one!"

Dearka shrugged insouciantly. "Anyway, come on, stay and play golf with us. Besides, I doubt you're really returning to the office."

"And why is that?" Cagalli crossed her arms over her chest.

"No one goes to work wearing something as cute as _that_!"

Cagalli fought the urge to snap at him. "Okay, I'm definitely going back to work."

"I'm kidding! Come on, tee with us. Besides, I'm rarely in the country. Haven't you missed me at all?"

Cagalli gave a small smile at her friend's familiarly boyish grin. That one never changed since they met, but she just hoped that the other things about him changed. He was too cocky for his own good, and one day, he was really going to aggravate someone so badly that they would really panic about his trampled attitude. She inwardly shook her head. It was a good thing she liked him, or she wouldn't have known how to deal with him.

"Let me thi—" Cagalli's voice died in her throat upon hearing Lacus' exclamation.

"Athrun! You made it!"

"Lacus, Kira," he greeted. "Matt! I didn't know you knew them."

"Athrun," Matt acknowledged. "We were just introduced."

"Ah. Hey, Lacus, I won't be staying long. I went to the construction site a little away from here, and I just dropped by to say hi. I need to be back in the city in forty-five," Athrun hurriedly explained, referring to the location where a new branch of Motor Genesis was going to be constructed. "Dearka," he added when he noticed him.

Cagalli had remained unseen until now because sometime during her conversation with Dearka, the golf player had moved, resulting in her being safely blocked by his form.

"Hey, man, you ponce. You went here but you won't be playing," Dearka grinned, turning around and revealing Cagalli, after which he put his arms around her shoulders. "What, did you and Cagalli catch the same bug? The I-have-to-work-work bug?" He rolled his eyes.

After a second's pause that no one but Cagalli noticed, Athrun greeted her, "Cagalli."

Cagalli opened her mouth to fend off her incoming fluster, but no words came out. In the end, all she was able to give was an uncertain wave of her fingers and a wavering smile.

"Excuse me," Matt piped in when his mobile phone rang, then he moved away from the group.

"So, you're really not staying?" Kira put in, weaving an arm around Lacus' waist.

Athrun plucked his sunglasses off his nose, folding one of the stems and inserting the other in the neckline of his button down. "I can't. Sorry, Lacus, Kira."

"Athrun, you hardly have time to unwind," Lacus held onto her workaholic friend's sleeve.

Smiling genuinely, Athurn answered, "I went to your fashion show, didn't I? Besides, how come you guys have so much free time?" He sounded really puzzled.

"No tournament yet." That was Dearka.

"I'm on leave," Kira shrugged.

Lacus giggled. "I think I'm the one who really has her work time in her hand!"

"And I just finished a project," Yzak uttered upon nearing the group. "Zala, didn't think you'd make it."

"Yzak," Athrun nodded, "yeah, I won't be staying long."

"Let me guess, work?" Yzak shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. He had changed into casual khakis and a powder blue polo shirt and his golf shoes.

"Unfortunately."

"Cagalli, excuse me." Matt returned to the group.

"Hey, Matt this is Yzak. Yzak, Matt," Cagalli introduced.

Matt gave Yzak the usual nod men used before shaking his hand.

"Matt?" Cagalli called.

"Ah yes, are you leaving? I'm afraid I may not be able to drop you off at your office. I have an emergency. I'm going up north."

Cagalli looked thoughtful for a short while. "Oh, anything bad? Anyway, it's all right. I'll take a cab." She gave an embarrassed giggle. "Don't worry yourself, Matt."

"I can drop her off," Athrun suddenly offered. "Uzumi's office, right?"

Before Cagalli could deny and lie, Matt clapped Athrun in the back. "I'd appreciate it, Athrun. Well, Cagalli, I'll go ahead. I need to hurry."

"Uh, yeah, take care, Matt…" Cagalli waved weakly as Matt said his goodbyes to the others as well.

Cagalli couldn't believe she had to rely on Athrun to bring her back to her office. Recently, her life had been a series of crappy event after even crappier event. What exactly did she do to piss off the Fates in her past life? She wasn't supposed to see Athrun again. She wasn't supposed to ride in a car with him, and he wasn't supposed to offer in the first place! How the hell would she survive that? How could Matt leave her in the hands of the devil himself? Not that Matt knew why he shouldn't have done what he did, but still, they were friends, weren't they? Matt should be able to read the subtle signals she'd given.

Cagalli heaved a great sigh that went unheard. What was she thinking? Matt was a guy, and he was as dense as they come.

Athrun checked his watch. "I guess we'll be going, too, then." He dropped a kiss on Lacus' cheek, then he nodded at the men. "I'll see you around."

Cagalli was sorely tempted to renege her earlier statement about having to go back to the office right away, but she really did have to get back to work, even if it meant having to work in her cutesy outfit. Company policy dictated that she needed to dress properly, but if she still went back home to change, she'd be wasting time, and she'd miss another day of work, which she couldn't afford. She had to go over the guest list again and finalize the details now that she had a place to hold her benefit. The raw copy had to be sent out to the printers today so the invitations could be delivered tomorrow afternoon at the latest. The charity event was scheduled this coming Saturday, and if the invites couldn't be delivered right away, she'd have a disaster in her hands — it was already late as it was. The only consolation she had was that she brought along a coat with her to cover what she was wearing and the thought that she had extra practical pumps waiting in her office so she didn't have to walk around in shoes the color of some bubblegum.

She followed Athrun all the way to the lobby where the doorman had retrieved her coat and was seemingly waiting for her. Matt must have informed him on his way out, and Cagalli sent a silent thank you.

It was probably odd of her to think how weird it was for them to be this silent, but she didn't fancy breaking the quiet that had settled either, so she remained mute as she once again followed him to his car. Besides, after what she had done to him, he was probably just bringing her to her office out of ingrained courteousness and a favor to a friend, which was really fine with her for she honestly believed they were better off being estranged — not that they were genuinely affectionate with each other in the first place, of course.

Because of his sudden taciturnity, she was surprised when he remembered to open the car door for her; she thought for sure he was sort of ignoring her, but then she recalled that a man of his stature probably had etiquette lessons since the day he was born and was probably only showing her politeness out of habit than anything else.

By the time they were out of the parking lot and onto the street, Cagalli was a mass of uncertainty. This sure was awkward, and if she knew herself well, awkwardness was something she couldn't stand. It was either she would spout unnecessary drivel or she'd fidget nonstop that she could probably lose weight from it. At this moment, however, Athrun's reticence precluded her from vocalizing the minutest of sounds, so she was left to perfect her devil's tattoo on the armrest on the side of her door, between crossing and uncrossing her legs.

The drive to the city was fast and painfully quiescent, and Cagalli thanked all her lucky stars that there was hardly any traffic — she thought she'd cry if she had to endure a longer time inside the suddenly stuffy car. All Athrun had to do was turn right at the stoplight, drive three blocks in the same direction, and they'd be arriving at the tall building of Akatsuki Insurance where it was safe and Athrun-free.

Just as her optimism started to soar, it plummeted straight away when Athrun went straight past the stoplight then turned left at the next junction. "My office is _that_ way," she jerked a thumb behind her head. "You should get a driver if you don't know your way around the city!" she almost shouted, though secretly glad that she had broken the oppressive silence.

"Yes, of course."

The nonchalance with which he replied grated on her nerves. "Turn around! I'm already giving you directions, aren't I?"

"The Justice, it's done. You can get it now," he calmly explained.

"The wha— Oh. Oh." A pause. "All right. I've been meaning to ask what's happened to it, but I guess there's no point now."

"Hn."

Athrun took another turn, and they were at the back of the Justice building. He stopped at the metal gate and waited for the sensor to recognize his plate number. When they reached the second basement, Athrun parked his car and opened the lock.

"Here," he handed her a pair of keys, both with the emblem of Justice as keychains, after pressing a button and the sound of an unlocking car was heard. He then proceeded walking towards a car with a deep alizarin red finish.

"That's…that's really…pretty…"

"Of course. It's a Justice, and no one would expect anything less," he held the door to the driver's side open.

Cagalli slipped in, putting great effort into maneuvering around so she wouldn't touch Athrun, and just then, she realized how childish she was being, but she couldn't care less. Before trying to scrutinize what exactly was customized in her new car, she pulled close the door, only to have Athrun maintain a firm grip to keep it open.

"Wha—" she was cut off when Athrun bent forward so he was eye-level with her.

"Go on a date with me," he proposed unceremoniously — no smirk, no knowing smile, no nothing.

She couldn't quite comprehend what he was saying. Shouldn't he be just…_politely _mad at her? But there was something in his voice that was telling her he wasn't exactly asking, and neither was he commanding her to go out with him. He somehow sounded like he was just saying what had suddenly occurred in his head.

"_What_?"

"I'll take that as a yes. I'll see you around, Cagalli," with that, he closed the door.

Furrowing her brow at being suddenly dismissed, Cagalli revved up the car and drove out of the basement parking without another glance at Athrun, and it was only when the late afternoon sun made her squint did she realize that he didn't even tell her when. Nor where. Nor did he let her decide. She gritted her teeth.

She stopped at a red light, sinking into the soft leather of the seat. She took a cursory glance around, and so far, she hadn't noticed anything that was supposedly adjusted to her personal specifications, and that was really because she hadn't had any. She hadn't met with Athrun about anything concerning her Justice, so if it took this long before she could take home her purchase, something new must have been probably done with it. She'd take a closer look later; after all, her mind wasn't quite on the subject of her fresh wheels.

_Go on a date with me. _That was, without question, completely thrown from the left field, and she almost regretted not running him over with her new car. But the tone with which he said it…there was something about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Cagalli gripped the steering wheel tighter then let go with a resigned sigh. There was no understanding that man.

Placing her gaze back on the road, Cagalli, then and there, decided to chalk their conversation up to Athrun's weird sense of humor. _Yeah, it's probably just a bad joke._

The light turned green.

**xxxxx**


	11. X: The One Where They're Friends

Title: Play of the Fates (10 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyrifght or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

"And this is my _unica hija_, Cagalli," her father introduced her to another couple from the _alta sociedad_ for the ninth time since her arrival. The man peered over his Castillian nose and thick mustache at her as the woman hanging off his arm congenially talked with her father.

The event was full of business partners, clients, acquaintances, and the general glitterati that Cagalli would not regret never knowing had she not been working at her father's office. As she had first thought, there were some attending only because of the good publicity the benefit could afford them, and she had already met at least five of those kinds in the past hour. Of course, there were also those who had noble intentions, but, sadly, they didn't see the need to get the media's attention so, naturally, they'd also be invisible in her radar.

"Hello, Mr. Treviño, Mrs. Treviño," Cagalli greeted upon their shaking hands, recalling their names from the convenient profiles she had been asked to familiarize the moment she was placed as the new Department Head. And if her memory served, she had recently seen this Spanish couple on TV — something on the _Lifestyle Channel_.

"Mm," was his immediate reply, making Cagalli wonder if he was as snooty as he was friendly on TV. Then: "Hello there, dear. Enjoying the night?"

A smile pulled at the corners of Cagalli's mouth as her earlier guess was proven wrong. He seemed cordial enough. "I could do with a drink," she quipped, albeit the desire to nurse a cocktail was very far from her mind at the moment. Lately, drinking anywhere with a lot of people landed her in unfavorable circumstances, and since Athrun was actually invited to this specific event, it would be wise to abstain for now. She had learnt that she, spirits, and Athrun were a messy mix, and it wouldn't do to lose her wits tonight. She didn't think her father would be very pleased to see his daughter plastered like there was no tomorrow, and the Fates would have a field trip laughing at her silly if she would be hanging off of Athrun's arm by the end of the night.

"Couldn't we all?" Mrs. Treviño giggled in her hand. "You have a beautiful daughter, Uzumi," she directed at Cagalli's father.

"I have, haven't I?" Uzumi replied, smiling down at Cagalli before proceeding to go into a discussion with the Treviños.

A blush stole its way across Cagalli's cheeks as she excused herself, but not before she expressed her thanks. That was a kindly couple, although her judgment might have been based on the fact that she had received a lovely compliment. She might not be a sucker for praises, but, once in a while, she let herself feel deeply flattered. Besides, that couple was as wealthy as a dream, and they wouldn't really get anything from her father that they didn't already have, so sycophancy was kind of out of the question.

When a waiter passed by, she caught a flute of sherbet and offered a perfunctory smile that mirrored the one the waiter gave her. She'd thought ahead, and instead of just serving Dom Pérignon in dainty flutes, she'd arranged for watered sugary fruit juices the color of champagne to be served in trumpet flutes to differentiate the two beverages. So by the end of the benefit, she'd expect the number of drunk aristocrats to be halved, and the number of drunk Cagallis to be non-existent.

Sashaying across the room to the podium at the entrance, she nodded at her secretary and handed her another trumpet of sherbet she had swiped from a waiter's tray. "Have a drink." When her secretary accepted, she continued, "Everyone donating pledges here already?"

"Not yet. Ezalia Jule, the Martius City Representative of Operation Childcare, has yet to arrive. So have Keith Lazarenge of Children's Foundation and Marie, Adrian, and Alberto Nepatal of Three's Company."

Three's Company was a big production company that had a foundation of the same name. The benefit Akatsuki Insurance was holding was usually a gathering of different foundation heads that contributed to the general fund of other foundations that were hard of money, but it also invited big clients that were interested in helping out, or, as she had previously complained about, were interested in making a bigger name for themselves.

Cagalli retrieved the guest list from the podium, skimming through the names as if to double check her information. Her face must have showed a comical expression because her secretary suddenly emitted a nervous giggle, and she wouldn't wonder, for there, at the last set of names, was Athrun Zala's name, preceded by a quickly scribbled heart.

"Sorry about that. I kind of have a little crush on him."

"This is so high-school, Elely," Cagalli chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll attend to seeing the new arrivals. Why don't you get yourself some food? It's a long night to go on with just your earlier dinner."

Elely smiled her thanks. "Excuse me then, Ms. Cagalli."

Cagalli eyed the heart again when Elely was out of sight, then shook her head once more. "Who'd have thought, huh?" she mumbled to herself, thinking about her serious and very professional secretary having an Athrun shrine at home. She bit her lip to keep the laugh from bubbling out of her.

The gaggle of uninvited photographers that had been kept outside by the tight security — only _Orb Aesthete_ and the Akatsuki Insurance's own media personnel were allowed inside — came to life once again, and Cagalli looked up to see the source of the fuss. A gleaming royal blue car had arrived, and out stepped Yzak, the media-magnet model. Cagalli scrunched up her brow. She didn't remember having sent an invitation to Yzak, and she couldn't recall her father telling her that he had invited the young model; after all, he wasn't an associate of Uzumi's, nor a client of Akatsuki Insurance, nor a figure head of any children's foundation she knew.

"Yzak," she uncertainly greeted when he made it to her safely, although looking almost thankful for the security for keeping the media off his back, literally.

"Cagalli," his tone was firmer and surer. "My mother couldn't come. She's currently unable to leave PLANT as she had just gotten out of the hospital."

"Mother?"

This time, Yzak seemed to have sensed her confusion, and after looking at her weirdly, clarified what he meant, "Ezalia Jule."

Recognition dawned on Cagalli's face. "Of course. Jule. Yzak Jule." She gave a small embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry. It slipped my mind."

"Obviously."

"Don't be so crabby. There's no Dearka to hound you tonight."

"You know, I like you better when Dearka hasn't corrupted you yet."

"Of course, because back then, you and I were the best of friends," she rolled her eyes, offering him a glass of champagne.

He took the flute from her. "Shut up, Shortcake."

Cagalli glared, quickly picking up that he was referring to that afternoon here in the same golf club when she'd worn that horrendously cute dress.

"Until now, I still don't understand how you and Dearka clicked. If I were him, I'd have been offended _indefinitely_."

She immediately understood and recalled the event he was referring to. Until now, only the three of them knew what happened that time, and Yzak only knew because Dearka had been too pissed back then to realize that he should've kept everything to himself. "If _you'd_ been there, you'd have laughed until you've given yourself apoplexy."

"He wasn't laughing when he told me."

Cagalli chuckled as she directed him to his table. "He wasn't after that night. Nor was he a week later. He was pretty stubborn and hard to convince."

"What did it take then?"

"Yeah right, like I'd tell you."

Yzak paused, as if surprised by her tone, then he shrugged. "Fair enough." Although he was best friends with Deakra, he hardly believed he needed to know the intimate details of his life. That one time the golf player told him about his situation with Cagalli was something he had let slide because the cocky blonde had been too irate to even listen to his objections. And he'd die a thousand deaths before he'd force the details out of Cagalli. Not only were they not close — they only ever talked occasionally, and she was more Dearka's friend than his — but the activity itself was something only girly girls did.

And Yzak Jule was not a girly girl.

"Anyway, heard Zala's invited."

"Hasn't arrived yet," she replied with clipped tones, and if Yzak noticed something, he didn't call her on it.

At the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Lazarenge and the Nepatals being led to their respective tables, and, as if on cue, the host announced the start of the fund collection. She excused herself.

Wending her way towards the stairs, she climbed a few steps to see over the crowd of exquisitely dressed people. She could see her father talking to a few associates at a far corner, four authorized photographers weaving their way around the people to take pictures, fine waiters seamlessly blending in and out to serve drinks and food, and her secretary keeping by the entrance to welcome late comers.

So far, everything had gone without a hitch: the media personnel was kept at bay, the program was going fine, the master of ceremonies had been the correct choice, and the collection of pledges was halfway through with little girls holding fancy woven baskets and visiting their assigned tables to gather the escrows from specific people of wealth. Cagalli grinned to herself. It wasn't a bad job, and if things continued to go smoothly, news would spread around Akatsuki Insurance, and her detractors would see that she wasn't chosen for her job solely because she was the daughter of the big boss. She'd told herself that she'd show those arrogant asses, and show them she would continue to do. This benefit was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, and they would know that Cagalli Yula Athha was a force to reckon with.

She didn't love her current job, that was a given, but she'd be damned before she would let herself be embarrassed and let her father be humiliated in the process.

**o-o**

Athrun drove his silver Maserati at a leisurely speed, taking the scenic route towards Lesseps; he said he might not make it to the event, so he wasn't in a hurry to get there. He should actually be going over some important documents tonight, but the probable reward of going to the country club was somehow more tempting than a few million dollars a set of documents could bring. He didn't think he was shirking his work and his responsibility to Genesis Motors, but he figured that a night of negligence couldn't possibly hurt, and besides, judging by how much he was killing years off his life at work, he supposed he deserved a break. Those documents would still be sheets of words upon words tomorrow, and he was an efficient individual — he'd be long finished with those papers by the time the company lawyers asked for them.

When his phone rang, he only spared the caller's name a second's glance before putting his mobile on silent mode and tossing it on the passenger seat. He'd been a fool the other day getting worked up by Cagalli's idea of payback until he realized that he shouldn't have been all that surprised by such an ingenious reprisal. It was Cagalli after all, the woman who had ignored him at Uzumi's house, the woman who had barged in on one of his meetings, and the same woman who had given him a fair warning which he chose to ignore. He should have known she wouldn't stand idle while he played with her senses.

Just as the song that had been playing in his car ended, the lights of the country club became visible over a hill. He glanced at the digital clock that flashed a soft neon green: 11:27. It was later than he had thought; maybe he shouldn't have stopped over at Kira and Lacus', but Kira had resigned from his teaching stint at the Orb State University and had asked him over to celebrate, which was ironic since no one celebrates resignations. But then they'd explained that Kira had applied for work and had been accepted at the Morgenroete University as a regular professor of the Science and Math Department under the Computer Science curriculum and was actually nearing the completion of his book on micro units. They'd celebrated over a modest dinner and good catching-up.

At exactly 11:30, he was signaling to turn right and into the expansive driveway of Lesseps. Knowing how huge events usually extend to the earliest of mornings, he wasn't that worried that he'd be missing the entire thing, especially when he didn't plan on attending in the first place. When the first people on earth said that men had a one-track mind, they hadn't known how true their words rang, and true to his gender, Athrun only came for one thing, or, more specifically, for only one person. He hadn't exactly thought of what to do once he got there, but he thought he could wing it, and when it came to Cagalli — _well_, Athrun inwardly shrugged, _anything goes._

**o-o**

Cagalli glanced at the progressively thinning crowd with subtly bored indifference. The benefit was officially over, although a few guests lingered to chat and enjoy the free drinks. It was already quarter to two according to her watch, and she wished for the media to hurry and finish packing their stuff so she could leave already; the handful of socialites left need not be entertained or be kept an eye on by her anymore as her job was done, but it was out of courtesy that she was staying to see the people of _Orb Aesthete _and the media personnel of Akatsuki Insurance off. She glanced at her watch again then stifled a yawn.

"Aren't going home yet?"

Cagalli turned to face Yzak. "Not until these people leave," she gestured towards the photographers.

"Gracious, aren't we?"

"Part of my job, Mr. Pledge Giver," she deadpanned.

"I'll tell Mrs. Jule you said thanks," he mock glared at her. "Anyway, I'll be off. I think those fucking paparazzi have thinned already."

"You'll know when you get out there."

Yzak grimaced. "By the way, did Zala make it?" When Cagalli shook her head, Yzak shrugged. "That guy has got to get himself a girl. Working even on weekends."

Cagalli laughed, half-relieved and half-amused. She'd thought by now that Athrun's friends would catch on to whatever was going on between the two of them. The tension when they were in the same place was so thick, she'd convinced herself that it was impossible to miss, but, apparently, she was just a little too paranoid. Either that or Athrun's friends were denser than tightly packed asphalt.

"Bye, Yzak," she waved at him as he strutted towards the exit, and she realized that modeling was really the only way to go for him. She grinned to herself, but the smile failed halfway when she realized something else: What if Athrun's friends had noticed it and were just playing dense out of respect? She shook her head to rid it of unwanted thoughts. That would be embarrassing as hell.

"Ms. Athha," Elely called, breaking Cagalli's horrifying train of thoughts, "the media's leaving and they want to say thanks."

"Oh, of course."

After a short polite exchange with the photographers, Elely asked if there were anything else Cagalli needed her to do, and when the latter said no, Elely bid her goodnight and goodbye.

Approaching the tall and elegantly dressed man that was her father — who had also chosen to remain and talk with a few of the remaining guests — she asked to be excused herself; it had been a long night and she was dead on her feet. Uzumi easily let her, smiling that secret smile she hadn't seen since she was a child.

"You did a good job, Cagalli. Good night."

It was said as simply as if he were ordering tea, and just as succinctly, but Cagalli glowed at the compliment. It had been a long time since she'd done her father proud, and maybe, this job had its appealing rewards after all.

"Goodnight, Mr. Athha." Then she was out of the room.

The early morning breeze picked up as Cagalli strolled towards the parking lot, ruffling her hair and the black dress she had gotten from the Eternal fashion show. The dress had saved her a lot of trouble last night for she didn't have to go out and buy a new one, especially since she didn't have high regard for boutiques as she believed they were too expensive to be practical. Also, it staved off Damien from offering to buy her a dress since he knew she wouldn't want to waste that much cash on silly things. Cagalli kicked a loose pebble. Really, that guy had more money than he knew how to spend. Just last week, he'd bought Miriallia two pairs of divine Manolos to match the price of the JeanRichard watch he'd given her. She often wondered how she ended up being friends with a generously rich guy when she herself was, more often than not, frugal to a fault; the only luxury she had was her YSL sunglasses that she bought on sale.

When she reached her car — the Justice that was supposedly customized though she still hadn't seen exactly what was done according to her preferences — a certain strikingly familiar person caught her eye. He was sitting on a stone bench directly opposite her vehicle, sports jacket open, top buttons of his shirt undone, hair tousled, and eyes cast towards the too bright moon. She thought his eyes seemed a little glassy, and — she paused. Why was she staring at him anyway?

As if her silence beckoned to him, he lowered his green gaze and caught her figure. He sent her that rakish smile, which always managed to get her pulse racing, then he yawned, and she almost smiled at how, at that moment, he didn't look like the usual Athrun who teased her relentlessly and got her heart pounding.

"Hi," he started, looking like he didn't plan on leaving his seat.

Cagalli was a little disturbed at how she almost decided to approach him, and she bet she looked funny when she jerked towards his direction only to stay still and glare at him half-heartedly. She tightened her hold on her keys, as if to remind her where she was supposed to be — inside the car and not outside of it staring at a guy who probably knew how positively good he looked under the freaking moonlight.

She ignored him and concentrated on pressing the button on the car remote to unlock the doors, like it was some unfair task that she had a hard time doing. The signal tone sounded intrusive in the early morning stillness, but it didn't mask the sound of crunching gravel as Athrun began to walk towards her. This was not good, and Cagalli almost fumbled with the door handle in her haste to open it.

Athrun stopped a foot away, eyeing her hands amusedly before looking up to her face. "Don't I get a 'hi' in return?"

"Hi." She kept her gaze on the door.

"How about an apology?"

"Sor— Are you _kidding_ me?" she burst out, looking askance at Athrun.

"What you did last time, that wasn't very nice."

Cagalli blushed beet red at the memory of _last time_, and she vaguely wondered how he could refer to it with a straight face. That should have been a very embarrassing memory for him, but he seemed pretty unaffected right now. _How does he do that?_

Shoveling his hands deep in his pockets, he leant on the red Justice and surveyed the almost empty parking lot. His own Maserati was parked near the bench he had been occupying, its silver finish reflecting the light from the nearby lamppost. "I have a proposal," he began, glancing at Cagalli at the corner of his eye.

"And I'm supposed to be interested because…?" Cagalli seemed to have re-gained enough of her composure to speak caustically again.

He ignored her sarcasm and continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I'm normally up at PLANT and only here on Earth occasionally for business. This time isn't any different. I'll be here only for a month to see to a merging, a month and a half if it's going to be extended again."

Sounding incredulous, Cagalli interrupted, almost certain about what vagary Athrun was trying to play, "Don't tell me this will lead to one of _those_ kinds of proposal! This is the Cosmic Era! _Nobody_ does that anymore! This is like some bad movie gone worse!"

Athrun actually laughed. "I'm thinking more along the lines of dating. Don't draw your own conclusions, Cagalli. I did tell you to go on a date with me. I'm just making the premises clearer."

It was unthinkable how different it felt when it was him saying her name. It was almost rolling off his tongue with a promise of some unknown seduction that seemed planned and, at the same time, casual. _How the fuck does he do that?_

Fighting the blush her own thoughts brought, she crossed her arms in front of her. "Why are you so interested anyway?"

"Because you are, too."

"I'm not!"

Athrun shrugged. "All right. Let's say you aren't. Accompany me as a friend then."

"We're not friends."

Athrun finally pushed himself off the side of the car and stood directly in front of her. "Of course. Because friends don't sleep with each other."

"We don't sleep with each other. We _had _sex. It was a one-time thing." Cagalli rolled her eyes. "And you're going around in circles."

"Goes to show that you _have_ to agree and have sex with me for the duration of my stay in Orb."

Cagalli was stunned for a heartbeat. "If that made any sense, the logic just flew over my head and I completely missed it."

"Is that a yes or a yes?"

"Are you drunk?"

"So it's a yes then?"

"No."

"That's not one of the choices."

"Why are you so interested anyway?" she asked again.

"Why are you so against it _anyway_?"

She'd asked herself that one too many times, and until now, she was no where close to reaching a sufficient answer. Athrun Zala was a decent man who had decent looks and a decent sense of humor, not to mention a decent way in bed. So, really, why was she against his idea? Aside from the fact that their first meeting was supposedly a one-night stand, her disagreement was quite untenable.

"Because we're friends," Cagalli replied, contradicting herself.

"We're not friends."

"_Why_ are we having this conversation?"

"Because I've been foolish not to have started with this," then he kissed her, effectively ending their roundabout discussion.

Cagalli should shove him hard. Cagalli should knee him and rob him of the chance of ever having kids. Cagalli should be mad at his audacity. Cagalli really should be a lot of things at the moment, but if she'd be truthful to herself, kissing Athrun was not as bad, or as disgusting, or as horrendous, as she made it out to be. And as the tiring events of the day seeped to her body, his gentle ministrations almost seemed like a balm that soothed even the aching soles of her feet.

Athrun cupped the back of her neck to gain better access to her mouth, and when he moved in impossibly closer, it became hard to think. Before she knew it, she was responding with the careless abandon of a woman interested because he was making it really difficult for her to respond otherwise.

When a silent moan escaped her throat, Athrun nuzzled her ear, and she could almost feel the languid smile that was making its way fast across his lips.

"Are we still friends?" he breathed in her ear, the fingers of his right hand tugging playfully at her hair while his left hand traced an invisible map across her flat stomach.

"Sto-stop kissing. I-I can't think…"

Athrun softly chuckled. "A compliment, thank you."

Gaining her bearings, Cagalli took a deep breath and extricated herself from Athrun, but not after scoffing, just to oppose his sentiments. "You know what, this won't work." When he cocked his head to the side, almost like a silent inquiry, she grimaced at him. "Just…_believe _me, this won't work!"

"Usually, this much sexual tension leads to a lot of things. Good things."

"There's no sexual tension. You really are annoying."

Athrun grinned. "Where have I heard that before?"

Cagalli blushed on cue. She didn't need to be reminded of that time in his apartment, not when it was going to be used against her now since that had been a victory for her then.

"Have you always been this cocky, Zala?" Cagalli crossed her arms in front of her. "'I've been foolish not to have started with this.' Now that I think about it, if you were already like this even before — you know, _this_ confident — you won't come up with a line like that. That's so corny!"

Seeing her disbelieving expression, he realized he'd over done it.

The telltale signs of embarrassment crept up his face, and Cagalli looked positively delighted to have something over him. "You're such a school boy. No wonder you're single."

"You shouldn't be talking, Mary Poppins," he immediately replied, relieved to have her be the one blushing again.

Just when she thought Yzak was the last one who'd take a jab at her outfit the last time they were all together, Athrun decided to remind her that she'd been like a misplaced _Disney_ character that day.

Cagalli instantly glared. "We're really never gonna be friends, you friggin' jerk!" She jerked open her car door and eased right in before slamming it shut. Backing out of her parking space and driving away from Athrun, the last she saw of him was his amused grin.

Cagalli sped through the empty wide road right after she got out of the parking lot. _I've been foolish not to have started with this._ Screw her earlier statement — the way he delivered it really was sexy, especially when he followed it up with a kiss. But, of course, she'd never tell him that. He had an over-inflated head as it was and needn't further encouragement.

**o-o**

Athrun ran a tired hand through his hair, only to have the wind mess it up again. He did it all right, pissed her off like usual, but he just couldn't help himself — she made the cutest expressions when mad — and because of that, he made her even more averse to him. Sometimes, he thought things were better off for the two of them if he just learned to avoid pushing her buttons. Either that or they shouldn't have met again after that night at the Freedom Metropolis.

Athrun breathed in deep and started towards his own car. Maybe Lacus and Kira were right — he needed to get himself a girlfriend, one whom he could invest feelings on. But he was in Orb, and trying to look for girlfriends in faraway places wasn't a very good idea, especially since he doubted he was good at long-distance relationships. Of course, it wasn't like he desired that much needed girlfriend to be Cagalli, but he was interested in her, and even if she seemed to be blocking all his advances, he wasn't that dense not to see that, somehow, she was interested, too.

He just needed to make her realize that.

Or he could remain the good boy that Dearka liked to refer to him as while he was in Orb, but that would be awfully boring.

Revving up his Maserati, he decided he didn't like being bored, so maybe he _would_ be friends with Cagalli instead, and then he'd see where everything would lead. By the look of things, it wouldn't be long until Cagalli herself chucked friendship for something else.

Athrun turned on his radio, and, funnily enough, the station he was apparently tuned in was playing _Bohemian Rhapsody_.

**xxxxx**

Clarification/s:

Just in case you forgot already, the significance of _Bohemian__Rhapsody_ is in Chapter 6, XI: The One With The Drunken Singing

A/N:

I was in a hurry to proofread so…if you see typos, point them out. Thanks!


	12. XI: The One Where Cagalli Fears The Bed

Title: Play of the Fates (11 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

Historical figure/s used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as solid facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Everything was a haze as the silk sheets slid smoothly against her skin, and the familiar weight of a man pressing down on her was almost gratification enough for holding back this long. Every nerve ending was awakened as he trailed searing kisses along the smooth expanse of her skin, and she gasped and moaned when he landed a touch on the heightening pressure between her legs.

She didn't know how it happened, nor was she in any situation to think it over. One second they were arguing over his teasing, and the next he was making her feel all sorts of crazy sensations with fiery kisses, possessive caresses, and the basic pleasure of skin sliding along excited skin, together with the contrasting coolness of midnight silk.

It was beginning to be a battle to keep her mind while he was moving his fingers inside her, and it was almost unforgivable that she was responding so eagerly to just that, but he was stroking the right spot again and again, and she couldn't stop mewling her desire.

She could almost hear the pounding of her own heart amidst their fast breathing, and when he sucked on a puckered bud and deftly flicked a finger, she came, her orgasm leaving her arching against him. His name slipped past kiss-bruised lips as she clung to him, and, as if to calm her down, he pursued a path of butterfly kisses along her neck, nibbling at the tender skin just below her ear that only served to defeat his seemingly original purpose.

"Cagalli…" he groaned when she moved against him, brushing against his arousal.

With the fingers entangled in his hair, she gave a gentle tug on the fine strands to get him to face her, and with a slight pull, she met his lips. He kissed her like a man starved, licking her lower lip before putting his tongue in her mouth, moving it over blunt teeth and caressing her own tongue. And his hands never once stopped exploring, fingers roving over heated skin again and again until he had rekindled the fire that had just been doused.

Without warning, he entered her, a swift, smooth thrust that forced her to tear her mouth away from his to let out a guttural moan of pleasure. Unlike his gentle ministrations earlier on, he moved in her with an urgency that served to excite both of them more, and it didn't take long before she recognized his rhythm and met his every thrust. She clung to him, raking fingertips down bare skin, as he drove into her relentlessly.

They say that make-up sex is always amazing, but sex after a long stint of obstinacy and denial, in her case, was even better. The hurried movements, the rush of butterflies in her stomach, the frenzied kisses, the slap of skin against bare skin, the heat from a seemingly insatiable desire, the wandering hands that teased and flicked and caressed, the liquid motions of meeting halfway and becoming one again and again, all served to drown her in an uncontrolled flood of sensations. And the friction — _god_, the friction — hinted at a release that was more than satisfying.

As if his rhythm wasn't enough, he began to nibble at the sensitive spot on her neck, kissing and sucking until she couldn't take it. His hand that wasn't supporting his weight didn't idle as it kneaded her breast and left possessive marks on her skin.

Somehow, the escalating tension and the almost roughness of their lovemaking pushed her towards the edge, and with one last thrust, she came, a shuddering orgasm that forced his name from her mouth in a primal cry.

"Ath—"

**o-o**

Cagalli gasped a lungful of air as she awoke from her dream, sweat beading on her forehead and heart racing a mile a second. The air-conditioning was almost painful against her hot and sensitized skin, and the uncomfortable feeling between her legs warned of the effects of her dream.

Taking a deep breath to calm her haywire nerves, she inwardly cursed. That dream had felt too real, almost as if she was once again going through the first time she'd slept with Athrun, only this time, the sense of urgency with which they copulated seemed to heighten — it was almost a fantasy that awaited sexual gratification.

Cagalli flopped back down on her bed angrily. It was just a dream, how could it have aroused her so much? And even if she didn't want to think about it anymore, the images and the sensations themselves wouldn't leave her, and the more those kinds of thoughts flashed in her head, the squirmier she got.

But she refused to touch herself, the reason being that her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to give in to the pull of trivial things like wet dreams.

Clenching her hand and taking a deep breath, she glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table, the offensive glow of the neon numbers calming her, if just for a little bit. 4:00am. She wasn't supposed to wake up until a little before lunch to get just enough time to dress up before going to Miriallia's place for lunch, but the aftereffects of her wild dream lingered at the back of her eyelids, threatening to continue if she closed her eyes. So, taking a deep breath, she decided to take a cold shower.

On a Saturday morning, at an ungodly hour, Cagalli grudgingly started her day, all thanks to Athrun who wasn't even physically there.

She hated him more.

**o-o**

Popping a disc on the CD tray, Miriallia waited for the player to read it and for the first song to start playing before turning the volume a little higher. Today was a good day for not only had she gotten rid of her cast yesterday — that itchy cast Cagalli had been bent to cover with doodles — but she'd also managed to get a date for herself tonight. It had been a while since her last boyfriend, and she was beginning to miss not being single and unattached. She often teased Cagalli about her behind-the-scenes activities because sometimes, the blonde could be such a prude, hard as it was to believe since Cagalli was too straight-forward to really hide anything, but in reality, Miriallia wasn't much of a deviant herself. She preferred it clean and romantic, and she would never do it on the first date. That was why she was excited for tonight. If things went well, they might be seeing each other again, and a date might lead to another, and another, and another.

She looked around her tidy apartment, small in comparison with Cagalli's and Damien's, but it was cozy, and there was no trace of a boy ever living there because there hadn't been any boyfriend who had stepped foot inside her home. It was just something she didn't do, and she'd justified it by saying that her apartment was her haven from everything else and it was better this way in case she ended up having to go through a rough break-up. At least the guy would never know where she lived to pester her.

A dull sound that cut through The Corrs' _No Good For Me_ snapped her out of her thoughts. "Miriallia, buzz me in," Damien's cadential voice wafted through the still air.

It was a national holiday so they didn't have work today, and since she felt a little girly and wanted to tell her two closest friends about her date, she'd invited them over for lunch. They probably already knew what her news was since this man was that cute guy down at the winery store whom she'd been crushing on for quite a while and gushed about in front of her friends, no matter how unwilling they'd been to listen to her.

Unlocking her door, Miriallia almost got hit on the face by a brown paper bag Damien tossed her way, but before she could protest, Damien spoke, his voice a little urgent.

"You have to do me a favor, Miriallia." He took her hand and led her to one of the chairs surrounding the modest dining table, sitting her on the soft cushion with a firm motion.

Miriallia made to raise an eyebrow in question, only to realize she wasn't capable of doing it, so she sat there, dumbfounded, the hand holding the paper bag limp at her side.

"Do you know Annalie Kane?"

"…she a movie star?"

"That's Angelie Duane." Damien rolled his eyes, as if to show how stupid her answer was, then he proceeded to explain to spare them twenty questions, "Her whole name is Annalie Ardith Kane. A direct descendant of the House of Kane, an original Norwegian nobility whose line is thought to have ended. Her great-great-to-the-whatever-nth grandfather abandoned the family to marry 'his heart's desire,' a Swedish daughter of a successful businessman. Rumors spread, and the next thing you know, the Kane lineage has gone out of existence. Fucking Chinese whispers. It's all my eye and Peggy Martin. _Anyway_, Annalie Ardith Kane is my mother, and she's coming to Orb to visit."

Silence.

"You're Norwegian?"

That wasn't quite the reaction he expected from her. "_What? _No!"

"Swedish?"

"I'm English, Miriallia."

Of course he was English — he used phrases like "all my eye and Peggy Martin," which she didn't understand a single word of. Even though he seemed like a naturalized Orb citizen like she and Cagalli, there were still times when he was more English than an English muffin partnered with Earl Grey tea. Miriallia felt really stupid, all right. Of course, that didn't stop her from asking another un-thought of question. "You're last name's Kane?"

"Are you for _real_?" Damien sighed exasperatedly. "My surname's Lewis, Miriallia. Thanks for remembering."

As if his sarcasm shed light to his family tree, Miriallia jumped up, the paper bag from her hand flying. "Oh my god! You're fucking _nobility_?"

"_Focus_, Mir!" Damien pushed Miriallia back to her seat. "I know it sounds intriguing, but my family story is boring, so let's leave the questions for another day, _okay_?" He could sense Miriallia's curiosity piquing, after all, he had left out so many details that jumping from Kane to Lewis seemed nfonsensical. "You have to help me," he went back to his original plea for help.

Miriallia opened her mouth to reply, but Damien's glare made her deflate, and she decided to ask questions about his noble blood some other time. Really, could he be _any_ more interesting? "Depends. What do you need help with?"

"Date me."

Miriallia almost choked on her own saliva. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Be my girlfriend. For the duration of her stay."

"_Why?_"

"What do you mean why? Why not? Am I not datable? Am I not in the top echelon of the male pantheon?" Damien had a very good idea of how gorgeous he was, with his dark hair and piercing silver-blue eyes, and he wasn't the tiniest bit modest about it.

When Damien crossed his arms over his chest, Miriallia burst out laughing. "Oh _you_ are good-looking, I'll give you that, but you're as gay as the day is long! How are we _ever_ going to convince her?" That was the only reason she could think of as to why he wanted her to date him: to convince his mother of _something_. Her laughter, however, was abruptly swallowed when Damien favored her that mysterious smile that announced he knew something and she was about to find out what it was in a very unexpected way.

Damien leaned in and caught her chin, moving dangerously close, but before she could demand that he tell her what he was up to, he kissed her. Miriallia's eyes widened, but the contact was over before she could process what was happening.

Pulling away slightly but keeping a hooked finger under her chin to keep her gaze in his direction, Damien smiled an indolently hedonistic smile that Miriallia had only ever seen on virile, straight guys.

In a whisper still tantalizingly close to her lips, Damien said, "Girls, boys. Doesn't matter much. Did I ever tell you that?"

**o-o**

"No, you didn't!" Cagalli found herself replying in Miriallia's stead. Here she was, thinking that the big news was Miriallia finally hooking up with Tolle the wine guy, only to find out that Damien swung both ways. _And_ he kissed Miriallia. On the day she was supposed to be ideally kissed by her new date.

Her two friends almost jumped at her sudden appearance, and when they turned to look at her, Miriallia seemed like she couldn't decide what expression to put on and Damien seemed a little…annoyed.

"What? You want me to kiss you, too?" Damien recovered, returning back to his mildly sarcastic self.

Instead of being offended at his tone, Cagalli's face split into a huge grin before she dissolved in laughter. "So _this_ is why!" She gripped a random furniture to keep her steady. "This is why we fool a lot of sales ladies! You actually know your way with women!" As if on cue, tears appeared at the corners of her eyes as she tried to hold in her laughter, although she was failing quite miserably.

"Then why do you act so gay around us?" Miriallia seemed to have recovered from her surprise.

"Because you're girls, and topics including the girly aspect of life are not fit to be discussed in front of a _male_," Damien answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Cagalli approached them, dropping off her shoulder bag as she passed by the couch. "Well, true. And he does act like a _guy_ guy when others are around," she directed the last part at Miriallia.

"So your mom does not approve of you liking other men?" Miriallia asked, and it was only after she asked the question did she realize how dumb it must have sounded.

"I think she knows her only son is bisexual, but I suppose to keep my father from turning in his grave…" he trailed off, again rolling his eyes and looking like the son actually raised the parents instead of the other way around.

"So, are you going to tell us the whole story? And, before I forget, what's this bag for?" Miriallia picked up the paper bag that had lain forgotten on the floor for quite a while.

"What you're gonna wear when we go see my mother. And no, I won't be telling you my family story because it's tedious and boring, and you'll know soon enough."

"You got me clothes? I haven't even said yes yet! And why didn't you ask Cagalli?"

Cagalli mock glared at the brunette. "Thanks, Mir. Pass the task to me, why don't you?"

"You're prettier," Damien told Miriallia, taking his seat at the table.

This time, Cagalli turned her glare towards Damien. "Thanks, asshole. You really know how to make someone feel good."

"You're welcome, love." He gestured for the two of them to take their seats as well. "Anyway, you're a friend, Mir, so of course you'll say yes. And let's stop talking about that now that my problem's solved." He poured some red wine for himself. "Let's hear about _your_ news," he gestured towards Miriallia.

At that reminder, a grin automatically sprang on Miriallia's lips, forgetting that Damien had just decided that she had agreed already even though she had yet to make a decision. "I've got a date tonight! It's Tolle! Tolle the wine guy! He didn't even mind the cast!"

Cagalli laughed, forking pasta onto her plate as soon as Miriallia handed her the silverware. "Of course he wouldn't mind." She looked at her arm that was already cast-free. "It wasn't like it would be there forever."

"Although, you could have had kinky sex with that. Doctor and patient," Damien easily quipped.

Miriallia almost choked on her pasta. She glared at him. "Damien, if you really want me to consider your request, better start behaving like a man! Guys don't just say that!"

Damien rolled his eyes, "I'm kidding, jeez! We _know_ you don't do it on the first date!"

This time, it was Cagalli who rolled her eyes. "Can we not talk about sex?"

Damien grinned almost evilly. That request was begging to be milked, and milk it he would. "Ooh…looks like someone's not getting it. Frustrated much?"

Cagalli didn't justify the jest with a reply, mainly because she wasn't _not_ getting any; it was just that she got it from someone she should not be getting it from. So instead of replying, she chose to glare at him, which only sent Damien into a laughing fit.

"I've heard that taking a sabbatical from sex is like trying to quit smoking cold-turkey."

Miriallia just about choked on her wine after hearing that, and if she'd taken more than a little sip, she'd have found herself with wine coming out of her nose. Across the table, Cagalli was trying to stop herself from hitting the smirk off Damien's face, but because she wasn't exactly famous for her control, she smacked him upside the head.

"See if I don't do that again," Cagalli smirked in return.

Damien, with an air of an aristocrat, rubbed the sore spot. "You're violent as ever. I swear, I thought we've gone past this kind of treatment?"

Miriallia stood up from her seat and walked around the table to where Cagalli was seated. Placing an arm around her shoulders, she ruffled the blonde's hair like she would a child. "You're really bothered about something, aren't you? Usually, you just ignore his teasing."

Cagalli sniffed haughtily, like she'd been offended.

Damien sighed, turning to his side to fully face his childish friend. He placed his hand upon her cheek and leant forward, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "Fine, fine. I knew you wouldn't let my saying that you aren't as pretty pass quickly, even though you acted like it."

Miriallia rolled her eyes and shook her head at how Damien was saying his peace.

"Kidding. You're pretty, too."

"That's not even it!" Cagalli seriously didn't know how their conversation made a sudden turn. They were supposed to be teasing Miriallia or trying to get Damien to tell them about his life, but instead of that, they were trying to get her to tell them what was bothering her. Usually, she would tell them, but she couldn't quite figure out how to relate to them just how frustrated she was. Currently, the idea of sex and her mood didn't mix; if anything, the word was only leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. All thanks to her stupid dream and to the equally stupid existence of one Athrun Zala.

"If I give you candy, will you tell us?"

"Please, Mir," Cagalli exasperatedly sighed. "That only works for five-year-olds." Shrugging Miriallia's arm off her shoulders, she stood up and grabbed her wine glass from the table. "Hey, guys, let's not talk about me! I mean, c'mon, _this_ is Miriallia's day! Tolle, remember?" She raised her wine glass for a toast.

Miriallia and Damien looked unsure for a moment before giving in; Cagalli was one obstinate mule, and that was putting it lightly.

"Fine. You'll tell us soon enough," Damien acquiesced. Sighing a bit melodramatically, he raised his wine glass and clinked it with Cagalli's then with Miriallia's when the brunette raised hers. "Here's to wishing a successful first date!"

Cagalli gave them a thankful smile, then resolutely directed their conversation towards the big date happening that night.

**o-o**

Staring at her carefully made bed with so much consternation, Cagalli bit her lip. How did time pass by so quickly? She swore it was just a minute ago that she was watching Damien and Miriallia fuss over the latter's outfit for her date…how come she was back at home and preparing to turn in for the night already? She glanced at her bedside clock: 9:47. The night was still young, and, by all rights, she should be out with a few friends pub-crawling around downtown Orb until she was sure she was seeing triple. But Miriallia had her date and Damien had some other plans, and she didn't feel like calling other people to hang out with. Yes, she was a pitiful person with only two true friends she felt comfortable enough to be drunk around.

Sighing for the umpteenth time since she entered her apartment, she stomped away from the bedroom. It was dangerous to fall asleep, that much she'd realized. Maybe she could go out, breathe in some fresh air, and clear the fog that had settled in her head. The rooftop was a nice, quiet place, and she thought it perfect. The evening air was a bit chilly, and the cold might do something good to her…maybe get her sick enough that her feverous sleep wouldn't allow for weird dreams. Cagalli heaved another troubled sigh. Deciding that that might actually be a better situation than being hot and bothered by a dream that felt all too real, she grabbed her coat and then left her apartment in a slight rush.

Feeling a little better already just by being out of her unit and walking the short distance to the elevators, she even managed to smile and greet a neighbor she was sure was keeping a pet illegally in his apartment. But just as the steel doors slid open, the good feeling that was slowly washing over her turned cold, like death itself was dressed smart-casually and talking quietly on the phone, unaware that she was gawking at him.

_Zala?_

**xxxxx**

Reference/s:

Tolle the wine guy is inspired from a character from the show F.R.I.E.N.D.S: Paul the wine guy.

**daisukiasu'n'caga **– props to you, sweetheart, for that PM

**Angie** – In the last chapter, it's really "don't" because Athrun refers to sleeping with each other like it's an ongoing thing, thus making it "present." And Cagalli only clarifies that they "had," thus the "one-time thing" follow-up. Cagalli is not differentiating "sleeping with each other" and "having sex." I'm sticking with "don't." :)


	13. XII: The One With The Sloppy Kissing

Title: Play of the Fates (12 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

Historical figure/s used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

The other night, she had dreamt that she was being chased by the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_ for the strangest reason that she refused to grow up and leave Neverland. Last night, she dreamt that she and Athrun were making the best use of her too soft bed. And tonight, she was praying to all the gods she knew to make it so that she was only dreaming about being in the same lift as Athrun, who was just now pocketing his mobile phone and realizing that he knew one of the people in the elevator car.

"Why are you here?" she hurriedly let out before he could begin speaking. The disbelief in her voice was so obvious that the other guy in the elevator stepped away from her. "I'm sorry," she indifferently directed at him, her disposition completely different from when she greeted him a while ago.

"Uh…no…it's all right," the guy, who was illegally keeping a pet in his apartment — pets weren't allowed in their apartment complex — replied, choosing to leave the elevator as soon as it reached the next floor even though the button he pressed earlier was for a different one.

Athrun laughed when the steel doors closed, leaving Cagalli and him the only ones in the lift.

"You think that's funny? Guess what, it's not! Why are you here anyway? This is my apartment complex! It's my _freaking _sanctuary! You're everywhere I go, do you know that?" Cagalli's mouth was running a thousand miles per second, and the volume with which she was expressing herself was rising at about the same speed. "I mean, _c'mon_! Stop stalking me, for heaven's sake!"

All this while, the amusement on Athrun's face continued to grow, and he didn't even bother to hide the grin that was threatening to split his face in half.

Cagalli was never known for her patience. Her own father had warned her that her temper would someday get her in trouble — and it already had a couple of times before — but with Athrun smiling like he knew something she didn't, coupled with her tremendous effort to banish the dream from her mind, her fuse had gotten shorter than a candle's wick. _"What?!"_

"As fun as 'stalking' you is, I've decided to take a break."

Cagalli looked puzzled as she couldn't get her mind to wrap around his sarcasm quick enough. "What?" she asked, now honestly confused.

"I know somewhere in all those papers regarding the deed of ownership of the car lies your address, but I never once looked you up. Believe it or not, I'm just as surprised to see you here."

Cagalli regarded him skeptically. "No, you're not."

"Just because I don't go ballistic like you do doesn't mean I'm not surprised." He had the gall to smile.

When he shook his head, Cagalli noticed the champagne bottle he was holding, with the red and gold ribbon tied around the bottle's neck making her wonder why she hadn't noticed something so festively bright earlier. _Oh._

Athrun noticed where Cagalli was looking, and as if to emphasize that he wasn't stalking her, he raised the bottle and uttered simply, "Party."

As expected, an embarrassed blush crept up Cagalli's cheeks. Prying her eyes away from the bottle, she almost winced at the words that next came out of her mouth, "Ah…sorry…" And trying to neutralize her embarrassment, she tried her hand at small talk, "House party?" Then she noticed that she sounded like she was fishing for an invitation, so she hurriedly added, "Not that I'm trying to be invited." She almost hit herself when she realized that, now, she sounded all the more like she was trying to get herself invited because, really, that was the last thing on her mind, especially since it was Athrun she'd be going with. "Forget what I said."

"It's Dearka's housewarming. I take it you didn't know here's his new pad."

Cagalli thought she could detect his overly careful insouciance over mentioning the blonde golf player, but then again, that might just be her imagination. She shrugged it off. "Oh…cool. Tell him I said — er — welcome…?" Dearka hadn't mentioned anything to her the last time they saw each other, but that was probably because they hadn't had time to properly talk.

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"No!" She seemed almost as surprised as Athrun at her violent reaction. "I mean," she retracted, "I mean, I'm not invited…and I have somewhere to be." When Athrun smirked like he'd won a contest she didn't know they were participating in, she felt a slight prickle of alarm.

"So you really were fishing for an invitation, weren't you?" Then he glanced sideways at the button she had pressed earlier. "Rendezvous at the rooftop?"

"N—" Cagalli started to say, but stopped to reconsider. "Yes, actually." He didn't need to know that she would just be out for fresh air, and if she made known that she was meeting someone, then he'd leave her alone. She just hoped he didn't notice her slip.

"Oh? Who?"

Cagalli almost choked. The way he delivered that proved he didn't believe her fib, not a single letter of it. To admit that she was lying would be admitting defeat; to answer his question, even when it was obvious that he wasn't buying it, would be falling for a trap; and to tell him off for supposedly butting in her business would be fueling his amusement. There was just no way to win in this kind of situation. _The smartass…_

She almost sagged in relief when Athrun's mobile began ringing because it saved her from answering.

"I'm already in the lift," Cagalli heard him say. She adjusted her coat and pretended she wasn't listening in on his conversation, which was a bit hard to do since it was only the two of them inside the elevator car.

She wasn't a self-conscious girl, never was, and it never failed to astonish her how Athrun could make her feel just that. Just a glance her way and she felt all prickly and conscious, like she should have dressed better, combed her hair more nicely, and a whole slew of other things. It was maddening, and she'd decided long ago that Athrun wasn't healthy company — he's just too sexy for his own good. Yes, even if she hated his guts, she wouldn't deny that he was easy on the eyes. She bet he'd had a thousand girlfriends whose little hearts he'd broken with just a casual wave of his hand and a delicate kiss on the cheek. _The bastard._

"Hey, Dearka, I'm bringing someone."

Cagalli, upon hearing that, whipped her head around so fast, she felt dizzy at the movement. There wasn't anyone else in the elevator car, and she was painfully sure that he was pertaining to her. And by the sly smile he sent her way, she knew she was far from being mistaken.

Athrun, ending the call, returned her stare, quite comfortable to just be eyeing her and not saying anything, and when the lift dinged to announce his floor, he smiled a slow smile that sent a chill up Cagalli's spine.

He stepped out of the lift and raised a hand to keep the steel doors open. "Dearka's party was originally planned to be held at the rooftop, not quite a housewarming get-together, but very Dearka. Unfortunately, there's construction work up there. It's closed." He licked his lower lip and cocked his head to the side, almost a mocking gesture that made her blush from the tips of her blonde hair to the toes of her feet. "Did you know?"

The tiny bells that was tinkling a while ago in her head as a warning to stay away from baiting Athrun were now ringing so loudly as a reminder how everything went wrong in the span of a short time. Cagalli almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of her situation, but she would never let Athrun know that, and with no other ammunition to bombard him with, she narrowed her eyes at him and hoped that he knew how much she hated his guts right now.

She knew she had lost, devastatingly so that he didn't even call on her fib the moment it flew out of her mouth and he recognized it as a lie, and her skin prickled at the thought of him doing that. If she'd stayed rooted to her spot and ignored him, that would be all the more admitting that she lost; on the other hand, if she came with him, it would be some sort of challenge on her part; the problem was, she was just telling herself that to console her pride.

Marching out of the lift, she sniffed as haughtily as she'd read in a novel once.

"I take it you're coming with me?"

She could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Fuck you."

Athrun didn't hold back his laughter any longer.

**o-o**

The party was going strong, the music was blaring, the alcohol was pouring, and testosterone was high in the room, telling him that by the end of the evening, no single female who came to his party would be leaving without a man trying to rip her clothes off. This was the kind of parties he liked, these loud, obnoxious shindigs that loosened up everyone's inhibitions. If he hadn't the good sense to have his new pad soundproofed once he'd settled, there would have been policemen banging on his door right about now for disrupting the quiet. It helped, too, that he owned the entire floor.

Dearka smiled flirtatiously at a girl who dropped by the drinks table, and he felt a stupid rush of male pride when she blushed, more so when he remembered that this particular girl was attached. He'd known it before, that he was a bad drunk — he flirted with just about anybody when his tolerance for alcohol was reached — but that didn't stop him from drinking until he was seeing double, especially on occasions when he was really allowed to, like tonight, since it was _his_ own party and he could make a mess of it if he wanted to.

By the large French windows that gave him a perfect view of the city, he could spy Lacus and Kira, offensively sober when they weren't supposed to be since it was he who was hosting. But of all the females he knew, there was something in Lacus that was absent in everyone else that he couldn't quite corrupt, so, naturally, he kept his bad habits to himself when around her, even staying a decent distance from her whenever he was a little too tipsy. He supposed he could get a special pass to heaven when he died for being respectful to a saint.

"Saint Lacus? Just…exactly how much have you drunk?" Yzak appeared beside him, refilling his champagne flute and looking every inch the stuffed shirt Dearka dubbed him as.

"Did I say that out loud?" Dearka laughed. "But don't you agree?" One of the things he prided himself in was that his drunkenness did not preclude a certain lucidity to his person. He'd talk Plato anytime with anybody, notwithstanding his level of inebriation, and he bet he could even out-argue Athrun's outstanding faculty for understanding the ramblings of ancient philosophers.

Yzak chose to ignore his question, which sounded rhetorical anyway. Returning his attention to his champagne, he looked at the various bottles of liquor and fruit juices available on the table, grimacing at the mess of choices in front of him. This was the main reason people got heavily drunk in Dearka's parties — there were too many available mixes and no professional bartender that people got off on their own mixes, creating concoctions that were sure to get them wasted three ways from Sunday.

When he spotted the bottle of port, he uncorked it and proceeded to pour a shot in his glass, satisfied to be able to find a decent cocktail mix. Bringing the flute to his lips, he played with the flavor of Nelson's Blood in his mouth before he returned his attention to Dearka, who was jumping from one topic to another. That was the other thing about Dearka when he was intoxicated: not only did he flirt with everybody, but he also talked more, which was bad since he was already talkative when he was sober.

Yzak was a tad surprised when Dearka swiped the flute from his hand, finishing his Nelson's Blood in one gulp and even having the gall to grin cheekily at him. "You know, with the right lighting, you almost look like a woman. You're very pretty, Yzak."

A vein throbbed in Yzak's forehead. Dearka must really be drunk off his rocker that he was even trying to hit on his own best friend, who was a _guy_ and should not be talked to like how the blonde was talking to him right now. He clenched his fists but kept them glued to his sides. It wouldn't do to knock the living daylights out of Dearka during his housewarming party, even though the blonde deserved it. But now that he thought about it, drunk or not, Dearka always found it amusing to take a jab at his sexual orientation, no matter how many times he drilled in the blonde's head that he was straight, no curving paths at all.

Dearka smiled suggestively at him, and it behooved Yzak to take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking, "I'd stop drinking right now, Dearka, if I were you."

The tone with which he delivered that was so sinister that it managed to penetrate Dearka's fuzzy head. The last time he ignored that kind of tone, he found himself nursing a broken nose and looking up at an incredibly irate Yzak towering over his fallen person. As if sudden clarity diffused the alcohol in his system, he backed away from Yzak. "I'll go get me fixed up."

Yzak watched the linksman swagger towards the kitchen, noting the barely noticeable stumble that told of Dearka's insobriety. He gave a sigh of relief. That asshole was a horrible drunk, but at least he knew now how to lift the spell alcohol had woven in his system, unlike in college when Dearka's cure for drunkenness was to drink more so he'd pass out.

Yzak grabbed the bottle of port again, only to realize that it was already empty. Seeing no other similar liquor on the table, he cursed. No more Nelson's Blood for him tonight. _Fucking Dearka._

**o-o**

Cagalli opened Dearka's fridge in search of something sweet to snack on, easily finding a small bag of M&Ms. When she thought of how much she had needed some kind of distraction to fend off the effects of her dream last night, she didn't think she'd be in Dearka's apartment, which hosted a too loud party that she couldn't hear herself think. She supposed it was a fine distraction, but the bad part was that it boasted of free-flowing drinks, too. That was why she was in the kitchen — she wasn't just in search of food; she was also hiding from everybody else who might have it in their heads to strike up a sottish conversation when she hadn't wanted to attend a party in the first place.

As soon as they'd reached the steel doors, tarnished by design and slid easily along hidden rollers on the floor, she'd considered turning away, giving up on Athrun's unvoiced challenge because she was finally realizing she might not have enough energy tonight to deal with Athrun, but Dearka had slid the door open at the exact moment she made to leave, and in a blink of an eye, she was surrounded by a pair of tanned arms and pulled across the threshold. She'd known then that, as she was exuberantly welcomed by a too happy Dearka, she wouldn't be going anywhere else tonight.

Popping a few colored chocolate tablets in her mouth, she almost instantly felt better. She closed the fridge door and leant against it. Dearka had a very nice apartment, too big for just one person, but just enough to house the golfer's luxuriant lifestyle and big ego. She didn't get to see the entire flat yet as there were already many people when she and Athrun arrived, but by what little she did see before the onslaught of energized bodies dancing to party music, she could tell it was the bachelor pad that every man like Dearka would kill to have. Cagalli looked around the modestly spacious kitchen. That was why this room surprised her; she didn't think that that man had a homey side to his personality.

It was a very cozy enclosure. In the middle of the room, a long polished dark wood that didn't brag of any carving, nor gilt, nor glass, served as the main dining table, its legs made of varnished tree stumps. The two long benches that flanked the length of the table were made of the same wood and polished the same way, both without backrests. The cupboards and cabinets bore the same dark color with some sort of abstraction carved on each panel. She'd run her fingers over them a while ago, and the grooves were smooth and easy on the touch.

The room was painted a soft mustard yellow, interrupted by a selection of multicolored matted square and diamond tiles that started a foot from the burnt umber granite countertop to about a meter in height. The dominant color continued after the tiles, reaching the terracotta-colored moldings that connected the yellow walls to the cream-painted ceiling. A Christopher Poehlmann New Growth chandelier hung from the ceiling, its muted yellow lighting taming the fluorescent scones on the wall. All the appliances, even the two-door fridge she was currently leaning against, were all grayish silver in matte finish. Everything described a person who wasn't Dearka, but she supposed that underneath that playboy persona was a simple laidback guy who wouldn't mind living in a farm house. She shuddered at the idea — that was so unlike the Dearka she knew.

The kitchen was empty of souls except for her, almost as though the homey atmosphere warded off the rowdy people, which was just perfect for her. She'd lost Athrun to a sea of friends who'd wanted to talk with him earlier, and she'd been doing a good job of evading him since then. Although, now that she thought about it, it didn't seem like he was actively seeking her anyway for if he were, he'd have found her already. And Dearka, she'd lost his company the moment he'd gone off to greet new visitors. She'd been talking to his friends, but had to excuse herself when they offered her drinks, knowing full well that going down that alley was a dangerous thing to do, especially when Athrun was in the same room. So here she was, munching on M&Ms in Dearka's warmly designed kitchen.

The wooden sliding door — Cagalli detachedly wondered if all the doors were the same — that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house swished open, breaking the relative silence and making her wince as the noise from the outside seeped in. Looking up, she saw Dearka stumble slightly before catching himself. "Close the door, will you? I'm not much for noise tonight."

He looked up, slightly surprised at seeing her cooped up in his kitchen. "Hey, love, what'ya doin' here alone?"

Cagalli watched as Dearka moved towards her, his gate steadier, although the glassy look in his half-lidded eyes declared that he'd had one too many shots of alcohol. "Avoiding drunk people like you," she lightly replied, popping another M&M into her mouth.

"You should be partying like rockstar!"

Cagalli rolled her eyes. "That's a song."

"Hm?" He hummed the song playing outside as he made his way towards her.

Cagalli neglected to clarify. "Why are you here?"

Dearka chuckled, "Aside from the fact that this is my kitchen and I can come here anytime I please? Water."

"You're weird, you know. People eat to ease their drunkenness; you drink water," she smiled, raising her head to meet Dearka's gaze as he leant an arm on the side of the refrigerator she was leaning on, trapping her between himself and the fridge.

"To each his own, sweet cheeks." His free hand reached for the other door, opening it for a fraction before closing it again when Cagalli laughed, carelessly unguarded around an intoxicated man who could overpower her any second. "You're awfully relaxed, love."

Cagalli heard the sticky clamp of the fridge door closing by her ear before what Dearka said registered in her head. She laughed again. "Whatever you're thinking, yeah right, Dearka." If there were one person she would never be afraid of, it would be this golf player who was breathing down her neck, no matter how drunk he got. They'd been friends since college even though they went to different universities and lived in two very different cities.

Having met at a frat party Dearka's fraternity was holding, they had instantly clicked, and if it weren't for a certain event that had Dearka cursing the Fates three ways from Sunday then and had her laughing every time she remembered it now, they might have stuck with each other. But it turned out that they were better off as friends. She herself didn't think she'd be close with a guy like him who was a natural playboy in his spare time and an amazing golfer with a big ego in his working hours.

Dearka pressed a kiss on the soft spot below her ear. "Are you not afraid that I'd do something to you?" He moved to place another butterfly kiss on her cheek, then her jaw.

Cagalli rolled her eyes, not the least bit bothered by Dearka's overly familiar actions. She wound her free hand around his neck, tugging at his hair to put a little distance between their faces so she could look him in the eye and laugh at his behavior. "Elsman, if every time you do this and I get afraid of you, you'd be facing a restraining order. If you were sober right now, you'd remember that we've had this kind of conversation before. Five times, if I remember correctly, with you reeking of alcohol." She playfully scrunched her nose. "Besides, you know I'll take away your chance of ever having children if you pulled something funny."

Dearka grinned a Cheshire cat grin, shaking loose of Cagalli's easy grip by dipping his head and bringing his mouth closer to hers. "Will you really?"

"You bet," Cagalli smirked, challenging and telling Dearka with just a small curve of her mouth that she'd pegged his behavior and knew him well enough, but when Dearka kissed the side of her mouth, the stubborn glint in her eyes dulled and the hand that was loosely embracing the golfer and playing with his hair stilled.

"Let's not assume, shall we?" And he took her by surprise when he kissed her smirking mouth, the hand that balanced him against the fridge now cupping the back of her neck to get a better angle.

Cagalli's eyes widened, suddenly alarmed, a muffled gasp leaving her lips. Dearka seemed to think of that as a good opportunity and snuck his tongue in, tangling it with Cagalli's and forcing an involuntary moan from the both of them. She effectively forgot to live out her earlier threat.

She knew he was a good kisser, but being kissed by him this way was something she didn't think she'd experience again. It was drunken, it was a little sloppy, and it was inexplicably hot, casting a heavy force on her eyelids and making her close her eyes. She could taste the alcohol in his mouth, and she dropped the bag of chocolates in her surprise, faintly hearing the clicks of the hardened M&M shells against the floor. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind telling her to step away because this was Dearka and they didn't do this kind of thing. Not anymore. But her legs just wouldn't cooperate; however, when the sound of a sliding door, mixed with the brittle sound of chocolate shells making a mess on the floor reached her ears, she gained her bearings, and she pushed Dearka off her, her eyes automatically landing on the trespasser. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and her mind was still reeling that she was unable to speak.

Dearka, looking as though he had just realized what he did, blinked at the sudden shove. Then he immediately regretted his actions, the haze of insobriety hanging around him abruptly dissipating.

Noticing her diverted attention, he followed her gaze, his eyes landing on a certain friend who was looking too calm for someone who had walked in on something intimate. He shook his head to clear his mind, then nodded towards the trespasser.

"Athrun, man, here to get water as well?"

**xxxxx**

To those who read _Today is the Tomorrow We Promised Yesterday_, we have to get you AthrunCagalli fluff. And fast! (And thanks for reviewing and/or reading)

**Important:** If anyone is making a request, please log in so I can reply or leave an e-mail add (or a link) I can use to contact you. Requests will probably take a long time to be fulfilled, and that's even only if I agree to write them. Thanks.


	14. XIII: The One With The Rabbit Hole

Title: Play of the Fates (13 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

Historical figure/s used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

Cagalli's fingers flew across the keyboard a little too agitatedly, little clicks and clacks reverberating in the silence of her office, interspersed with the ticking of the clock that showed she was halfway to two hours over the official end of normal working hours. It had been more than a week already, but she still couldn't bring herself to touch a bag of M&Ms because of the memory that the act carried. And to repress her anger towards someone she didn't think she'd be angry at, she immersed herself in her work, never minding that there was no overtime pay for employees in and above the managerial position.

The one thing that annoyed Cagalli to great ends was that she couldn't get over an annoyance easily. It wasn't that she held grudges because so long as the situation was addressed properly, she'd forgive and forget, but letting an event remain unrecognized got on her nerves. And today, she was still pissed at Dearka for pulling a stunt like that. It didn't matter that he was drunk because he'd been in a worse state before and not once did he try something funny to her. She knew for a fact that he held a certain lucidity despite inebriety, and for him to act against the norm they had set between themselves merited the righteous anger that seeped off her in waves.

Her staff had seemed to have noticed her ill humor because they were steering clear of her, and she found she actually liked the effect — they were more efficient because they didn't want to report a mistake to her, nor did they want her checking up on them to remind them of work-related things to keep their department going.

Taking a pause to review a paragraph and to find a better word to use in her sentence, Cagalli sat back and felt thankful for her comfortable, high-back swivel chair. She was to release an advisory to the whole company to prepare everyone for any media accosting them regarding a recent problem Akatsuki Insurance met with, and it was already giving her a headache. Some of the higher-ups were harassing her into finishing quickly, and if they thought it was easy to come up with a proper advisory, then, she thought, they should try making one and see where it led them. It wasn't just about writing answers for possible questions; it was about writing a procedural report discussing the problem and delineating the causes in a manner that was easy to understand and to remember. Any PR employee worth his salt should know that one just didn't type an explanation because not everyone would easily remember the technical aspect of the company, and those stupid braggarts in the higher offices seemed not to be taking this into consideration.

Poising her fingers over the keyboard once more, she quickly went over her last paragraph, grimacing at the bad choice of wording. She was tired, and if she pushed herself to write more, she might be doing more harm than good. Finally admitting her exhaustion, she saved her document and proceeded to clean up to get ready to call it a night.

Another thing that was bothering her was how she'd responded to Dearka that night. He was drunk — she wasn't. She was fairly certain that there were no lingering feelings for Dearka anymore, and the only reason she could chalk what she did up to was that a famous and sexy linksman kissed her, so of course, what was a normal girl like her to do? Except…she wasn't normal in the way that groupies were normal. She sighed, turned off the lights in her office, and tried not to think about it anymore.

It was a fairly quick drive from her office to her apartment, and as she gave her keys to the valet, she felt her tiredness seep to her very bones. She hadn't had a decent sleep in four days because prior to the advisory she was working on, she also had to rush a newspaper article to disperse rumors; Akatsuki Insurance was a big insurance company that commanded a billion-Orb-dollar empire, and it wouldn't do to keep rumors floating about a scandal that was really all a big misunderstanding.

"Evening, DaCosta," Cagalli feebly greeted the receptionist as his own friendly greeting followed her to the extensive lobby.

There were times when Cagalli felt she didn't belong in this high-rise apartment, that the unit she owned was just an overly furnished playhouse to visit whenever she needed a temporary shelter that assured comfortable living, except the kitchen counter wasn't made of plastic, the electronics weren't toys, the shower really produced water, and the bed was a soft mattress made for adults and not kids. She was a woman of modest means, having placed herself in an independent circle away from her father since she graduated college, and, frankly, this Upper East Side apartment was home to the rich kids who played golf in their spare time, had Ceylon and Darjeeling in dainty tea cups in the afternoon, and ate diamonds and gold for dinner. She wasn't any of these people.

Just before she reached the elevator cars, an achingly familiar voice stopped her, making her name echo across the empty anteroom. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning around. He had about a week to talk to her, and he chose tonight, of all nights, to finally stop making himself scarce.

"Cagalli, love, wait up."

Cagalli noted how he'd finally regained his normal "o" instead of the "u" she was so used to hear from Damien. "Dearka. I'm surprised you're down here. Wouldn't you be causing a stir?"

Dearka must have picked up on her antagonistic undertone for he winced, although barely visibly. "At a time like this? The fans have all gone to sleep," he rode along, clamping a hand around her elbow and steering her towards the elevators. "I think I owe you."

Cagalli was faintly surprised by how he broached the topic, but she remained silent as they entered and rode the lift, letting him take her to his apartment. He stayed quiet, too, but not once did he release her, almost as if trying to make sure that she didn't leave. She inwardly rolled her eyes; where could she run off to in a closed lift anyway?

Before long, they were sitting in his kitchen, and the irony wasn't lost on her, but she kept that to herself. She accepted the mug of coffee he held out to her, inhaling the caffeinated scent that she needed to help her stay awake tonight. In his homey kitchen, Dearka seemed to have only stacked ceramic mugs of every color and sizes. She remembered he usually preferred coffee over tea, and she wouldn't be surprised if he had no teacups in the kitchen. She studied the pale yellow mug in her hands, the rim and the handle littered with red-painted apples.

Plunking himself down on the bench on the opposite side of the dining table, Dearka wrapped his fingers around his own mug, which sported a cow caricature over a pale-blue background. "Look, I'm sorry about last time. I didn't know what I was doing," he said, getting straight to the point. "I was an ass for kissing you like that."

Cagalli took her time sipping her coffee. "And you waited, what, a week to apologize?"

"I figured I'll make you miss me first," he sent her a roguish grin.

Cagalli wasn't amused.

"Okay, that was inappropriate," Dearka relented after a pause, pertaining both to his teasing and to what happened days ago. He sighed in defeat. "It was…I was drunk and you posed a challenge."

"Excuse me?" Cagalli sounded offended.

"No, no, I mean…I'm not putting the blame on you. It's not that." He took a sip of his neglected coffee, almost as though trying to gather his thoughts. "Why are you so comfortable around me? Even then, I was drunk, love, that much was obvious. Shouldn't you have been more" — he gestured vaguely — "more…I don't know…wary, maybe?

Cagalli watched him over the rim of her coffee mug. Sighing, she carefully settled the mug on the table. That was all Dearka was worried about? If she weren't so tired, she'd find their situation right now funny, but as it was, she stood up and walked around the table to his side. Weaving her fingers through his wavy hair, she gave a little tug so he was looking up at her, the elbow of her free hand resting on one of his shoulders.

"You're a stupid guy, Dearka. We've known each for years. I've seen you more plastered than the night of your housewarming. I was around you when you thought smoking weed was cool. Believe me, you're harmless around me, drunk, high, or not."

"I don't know if I should be offended or not," he quipped, still looking up at her.

Cagalli laughed, feeling less tense for the first time in a week. "I know you're a tough guy, Dearka. But it's you and it's me, and we both know it's not gonna work." She felt Dearka's sigh caress her cheek. "And I forgive you. I always do anyway…you just have to ask for it. You know I hate it when someone who's done me wrong doesn't acknowledge it."

"Yeah. Sorry, love."

Cagalli released him and straightened up. "Well, now that we've settled things, I feel so much better! Don't get any more crazy ideas, Elsman." She glanced at her wristwatch, grimacing at the time before turning back to Dearka, who now had his chin propped on the heel of his palm as he stared into space.

"Hey," she called, cocking her head to the side, pausing as though thinking over what she was about to say next. "Don't make me feel…awkward again, okay?"

"Yeah…"he answered almost half-heartedly, but Cagalli chalked it up to exhaustion; it was pretty late.

This encounter was pretty painless. At least, she thought so. "I'll see myself out." When she was almost out of the kitchen, she turned around and grinned at him. "You've got yourself a very nice apartment, by the way. Invite me again next time, alright? Well…good night!" And she was out the kitchen.

A few seconds later, Dearka heard his front door slide close, and a sigh he didn't know he was holding left him. He set his mug aside and laid his forehead on the smooth surface of the table. God, he was screwed.

_Fuckity fuck._

**o-o-o**

Yzak was a morning person, had always been and would always be no matter how late he got in the night before. But just because he did mornings didn't mean he did morning troubled conversations well. In fact, he hated it as much as he hated warm beer, but his long-time best friend didn't seem to understand that. Or he perfectly did but was just too much of an ass to care. Either way, Yzak thought him a bastard.

He dropped seven cubes of sugar into Dearka's coffee just to spite the blonde.

"Get up," he gritted out, trying to stop himself from kicking the golfer who was sprawled across his pristine white couch. He handed him the cup of sweetened coffee, and a smile of grim satisfaction tugged at the corners of his mouth when Dearka gagged.

"The _fu—_ Are you _trying_ to give me diabetes?" Dearka almost spilt his coffee as he coughed, his throat burning from the sugar.

Yzak nodded sagely. "Yes, anything to get you out of my sight this early in the morning."

Dearka sneered. "What, your _boyfriend_ hiding in the shower or something?" He irritably countered, and the way he sounded — like he had the right to actually be angry — got Yzak's hackles up and through the roof.

"Fuck you."

Dearka cocked his head to the side, his gaze raking over Yzak's bathrobed form. "Fine, but remember that I always top." The smile that he sent the fairhead's way was both seductive and roguish.

"That's _it_! _Out! Now!_"

Dearka raised his arms in mock surrender at Yzak's roar, and if his pale-haired friend slept in the nude like he did, there'd really be trouble now as the knot holding his robe fastened had loosened, letting the cotton hang open and revealing Yzak's navy blue boxers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Geez! It was only a joke!"

Yzak inhaled a much needed cleansing breath, tying his robe in the process. He counted until five in his head before he spoke again, "Elsman, it's fucking seven in the fucking morning. By all rights, I shouldn't be fucking seeing your face until I really fucking have to. Why the _fuck_ are you here anyway?"

Dearka made a show of wincing and covering his ears. "My ears are bleeding from all the f-word. Your mouth's gonna rot, Jule."

Yzak stopped himself from tapping his foot in impatience but didn't give Dearka the satisfaction of seeing him rise to the bait this time. A second later, it was as if the wind got cut off Dearka's sails and he slumped back against the couch, sliding until he was back to sprawling across it.

"I'm screwed, Yzak. Big time."

Yzak shrugged then let himself fall on the opposite armchair with the same color. "No surprise there. That's nothing new."

Dearka sighed the sigh of the weary, and he almost seemed too tired suddenly. "I'm screwed," he repeated.

"What did you do this time?" Yzak found himself asking despite his eschewal of Dearka's personal life.

Dearka glanced at him from the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the ceiling, the action almost seemingly occluding Yzak from seeing what was troubling the blonde, but he knew otherwise. Yzak was privy to Dearka's personal life no matter how much he hated it; Dearka always seemed to foist his troubles on him and was too open about his personal life for Yzak's peace of mind.

"A mistake," the blonde replied listlessly.

Yzak swallowed his irritation at his friend's reply. "Which is?" When his inquiry was followed by silence, he grew concerned. "Don't tell me you impregnated someone!"

Suddenly jerking in response, Dearka almost fell off the couch, "Hell no!"

To say that Yzak was relieved was an understatement. "Then answer right away when you're asked, idiot!"

Dearka glared as though Yzak had majorly insulted him, but he answered nonetheless, "I kissed someone I shouldn't have kissed."

Yzak hazarded another guess, resigning to the fact that if he wanted to get the process over and done with, he'd have to prompt the blonde, otherwise, he would continue to sulk and make even less sense. "Lacus?" he asked, naming the worst person he could think of that Dearka could kiss. Kira Yamato was the only one allowed that kind of familiarity, and the former popstar practically had her fiancée's name written on her forehead.

"I wish I did kiss her instead."

"Dearka, she's the worst female you could kiss because you'd have Yamato on your back. Plus Zala. Not to mention you'd probably corrupt a saint."

"It's Cagalli."

That stopped the laugh that was starting to bubble off Yzak's chest at the reminder of Dearka's comparison of Lacus to a saint. "Athha?"

This time, Dearka looked more irritated than resigned. "Do you know anybody else with that name?" Covering his face with his hands, he groaned. "And none of that friendly kisses either."

Yzak allowed himself a low whistle, something he rarely did, but he supposed Dearka's backfired dalliance deserved it. "When?"

"Housewarming."

"Shit."

"It's shit, all right."

Yzak knew of what had happened between Dearka and Cagalli in the past: an instant attraction brought about by too much beer in a college party that boasted of horny, stressed-out teenagers. It was a party held by their fraternity, the kind whose guests consisted of people the fraternity members invited and other people invited by the initial people the fraternity invited, who, in turn, invited even more people — basically a closed party that wasn't entirely closed.

As he'd painfully recalled, Dearka and Cagalli had hit it off almost instantly, and the next minute, both blondes were nowhere to be found. The next day, he'd had a furious Dearka banging against his door, complaining and raging about how the indecent amount of alcohol caused Cagalli to pass out even before they could do anything more than kissing, effectively insulting Dearka's ability to keep a woman interested. Cagalli had a good laugh about it, but Dearka had been harder to calm down, but when he did calm down, they started going out, their relationship lasting for about five months before they called it off, deciding that they were better off as friends.

Or, in the least, Cagalli thought they were better off as friends while Dearka tried to convince himself that she was right. Apparently, it had been a requited crush but an unrequited love. Of course, Cagalli didn't know about this, and Dearka had no intention of telling her because he had that much pride.

Dearka had been trying his hardest to fall out of love, even after six years of holding the torch for her and getting nothing out of it except friendship, which wasn't nearly enough. Yzak had never thought that a playboy like Dearka would be willing to endure something like this, but obviously, he'd seen something in Cagalli that he hadn't seen in the other girls he'd dated before her, nor in the girls he dated after her.

Yzak almost felt sympathetic towards the golfer, except he wasn't that kind, at least, not this early in the morning. Dearka was stupid to have kissed her; he'd opened up old wounds that hadn't even quite healed yet.

Dearka groaned again. "God, I'm screwed."

Having no better response, Yzak echoed, "God, you're screwed."

Yzak had thought that Cagalli and Dearka's extra familiarity with each other wasn't helping the golfer any, especially since it seemed it was only really Dearka who was acting extra familiar.

"I think we've established that," Dearka retorted, although there wasn't much bite in his tone.

Yzak didn't agree that they'd quite firmly established that very important fact since Dearka seemed to be falling down the same rabbit hole again and again despite numerous signs warning him about it. There were times when it was as if Dearka cherished prancing in the meadow where he wasn't supposed to, tripping over his feet, then feeling foolish afterwards — the man simply refused to learn, and the rabbit hole just got bigger and easier to fall into the next time he tripped. Yzak was almost tempted to slug the blonde, except he'd decided it was no fun kicking an already wounded puppy, no matter how stupid said puppy was.

"So what did you do?"

"I apologized."

"And?"

Dearka sighed dispiritedly for the nth time. "And nothing. We're friends again. Like _always_."

Yzak cocked his head to side, studying his best friend's profile before getting up and announcing what he thought of his situation, "You've pissed someone off in your past life, and you're paying for it now. Next time, you're coming back as a dung beetle."

Dearka turned his head to glare at Yzak. "Fuck off."

Yzak flipped him the bird, then, finally reconciling with the fact that the only thing that would get Dearka out of his house was a crane to lift his sorry ass out, he left to take a shower, leaving the linksman to sulk in his couch.

Obviously, Dearka was still harboring feelings for Cagalli. The problem was she didn't return them.

**xxxxx**

Dearka is love. Period. ;p

**Important: **To those who have requested fics, I'm still trying to write them. One thing's for sure, they are a challenge! ;p To **Dark Knight**, your request is my current project, and if you can leave me something I can use to contact you, that'll be great. I'll use that to send you a msg once the request is done. Thanks!

**SlvrSoleAlchmst1 **- Hey! Uhm, I was supposed to reply to your review on _Cracks on the Pavement_ but you weren't logged in then, and now I forgot what I was going to say. :D Oh, you didn't have to leave a comment when you're about to be late for your next class. lol


	15. XIV: The One With The Cheeseburger

Title: Play of the Fates (14 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

When he'd seen Cagalli with a blonde golf player in her face, he didn't think much about it after being reminded of the fact that Cagalli was a free woman who had no duties to him, and aside from a little disappointment he'd initially felt at having to be stopped so early in his game, there was hardly any resentment. Of course, he'd rather have not seen any kind of display, and he'd rather have Cagalli single and available instead of taken and carted off in a golf cart.

For all intents and purposes, he'd settled for giving up and actually becoming just friends with Cagalli, so he was surprised when Dearka invited him over for breakfast and apologized for his behavior towards the girl he said he believed Athrun might have been seeing, and even offered to be slugged for being overly familiar with a hands-off woman. At first, Athrun thought he was tripping him because there was nowhere they'd declared that he and Cagalli were a couple in any occasion that he, Cagalli, and Dearka had been in the same company. Dearka had then promptly replied that bringing a girl to someone's party and claiming that they were friends was as gay as Athrun and Kira really were when no one was around. Then and there, Athrun knew that he'd lost his chance to react to the apology as that session had ended the moment Dearka rang the sarcastic bell in his tone.

By the time he had to leave to get to work, Athrun still didn't quite know what to make of their friendly breakfast; they weren't particularly close despite being friends for a long time. Even though they had a good conversation going on and Dearka was being his usually sarcastic self, the underlying awkwardness could not be shaken off — it was either he doubted Dearka's sincerity or Dearka himself doubted he should be apologizing to Athrun; however, now that he was in the elevator alone, he decided he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not when the carriage that came with the horse was carrying a certain person he was quite interested in. Maybe the horoscope Lacus shared with him earlier this week was right: his stars were aligned and he was getting lucky. But then again, if he continued to believe every little horoscope write-up Lacus liked to share with him, he'd be married thrice this year with half the money he originally had and more kids he'd ever think of having.

Just as he was about to call his secretary to ask about his schedule for the day, he remembered that Dearka lived in the same apartment building as Cagalli. It was a Saturday, and Cagalli, unlike him, might not have work on weekends, but just as he was about to press the button for the floor number he remembered Cagalli entered from when Dearka had the housewarming party, his Blackberry vibrated. Upon checking the screen for who might be trying to contact him, he tried not to grimace at the name that popped up — his father had the worse timing.

Given the tense relationship he had with his father, he could already guess the nature of the call. Business had always been first in their household, and he was sure his father was calling about the buyout of the Nazca class vehicle, which would entail a lengthy update. His surprise visit would just have to wait, and now that he was more conscious of what he was doing, he supposed it was better this way. Cagalli surely wouldn't appreciate him dropping by and forcing her in yet another awkward situation for her although highly amusing for him. That would really land him on her bad side.

Sighing as he watched the digital display pass Cagalli's floor, he answered his phone, "Hello, father."

**o-o**

For the first time in a long while, Cagalli had a free weekend after working another overtime yesterday and finishing her advisory; even though she'd never had to officially work during the weekend, there was so much office work to do that she'd always found herself sacrificing her rest days to complete whatever had to be done, even back when she used to work for _Orb Aesthete_. And because it was rare that she was free, she was now finding herself thinking so hard of what to do to while her time away. This morning was fine because her apartment had been ransacked of its usual peace and quiet by Damien and Miriallia who were preparing to meet Damien's mother. It had been a hectic morning and time flew by so quickly. And now her two friends were off somewhere in the countryside where Damien's mother had recently purchased a villa. Cagalli swore rich people these days had nothing better to do with their money. _Don't they realize that half the world's economy is in recession?_

She wondered exactly just how long ago was the last time she had a break that she even forgot how to occupy her free time. She sighed for the umpteenth time before getting up from her bed. She had to get out of this apartment and find something to do or she'd go crazy. A while ago, she'd called Dearka to see what he was up to, but his phone wasn't being answered so he must be out, and that call had actually made her feel pathetic — she was twenty-five years old, had worked odd jobs, had been employed in two normal offices, yet she only had three real friends, two of which were lying to the other's mother, and the last one was out living a normal social life. How sad could her life be? And it wasn't like she could call Matt. They weren't that kind of friends, and he was too busy attending to his ex-fiancée who had been hospitalized due to a broken arm. That was another one of life's miracles Cagalli rarely got to see: two people who were once engaged but were now just good friends — very good friends.

She changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed her jacket. The weather had been a little crazy lately; they'd been getting days of windy overcast instead of the usual sun they should be having this time of year.

**o-o**

Thirty minutes after leaving her apartment and grabbing a sundae at the nearest McDonalds — which was the single out-of-place establishment in this side of the city — she found herself doing what she was doing when she was at her apartment: absolutely nothing, except now she was bored outdoors instead of indoors. Work had really made a mess of her life — she couldn't even think of a single thing to do without it, and she wasn't even workaholic to begin with.

Surveying her surroundings, she realized she'd walked towards the city park, and with nothing better to do, she entered the place, even though she wasn't one to enjoy parks — there was just something about them that reminded her of her high school days, which she didn't particularly like remembering. High school had been a drag for her. She was enrolled in one of those snooty schools, and she was one of those kids who weren't popularity personified. She hated the fact that high school life revolved around very few popular cliques, and it wasn't until college that she began to enjoy school life, most probably because everyone was from different walks of life. Almost nobody knew anybody so they were all virtually starting at the same page and pace.

Cagalli zipped her jacket. It was a little too windy for this time of month, something she didn't like because it gave her wind burn and forced her to put on some lip balm, which made her feel like she'd eaten the greasiest thing man had ever cooked. When a stronger gust picked up, she partially shielded her eyes with her hands, trying to look around for a bench to park herself, and when the wind died and she was allowed to scan the place better, she winced at seeing a very familiar face standing by one of the empty benches, looking sharp in a gray tailored jacket over a white collared shirt that was offset by a striped tie and a black vest that matched an equally black pair of pants. If it weren't for his inexpressive countenance, she would think Athrun was looking lost, being well-dressed in the middle of a park where patrons were usually very much dressed down. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

Cagalli debated on whether to call his attention. If she were to be honest with herself, however, she would admit she'd been wanting to meet with Athrun to overcome an unexplained feeling to explain why she'd had a drunk Dearka getting overly friendly with her, except the admission wasn't going well because she hadn't found yet the reason for wanting to clear things up. Athrun had never been subtle about his interest in her, but the attention he was paying her wasn't getting an equal amount of reciprocity so she found no ground on which to base the pull of her gut to explain herself. It was a little frustrating, and now that she'd settled her riff with Dearka, there was more room to dwell on her dilemma. She loathed the fact that she was even being troubled by it.

Cagalli felt a little foolish standing there and just staring at Athrun, who hadn't noticed her yet, but her decision on whether to call him or not was made for her by someone else calling Athrun's name. As Athrun turned to the direction of the voice, Cagalli automatically craned her neck to see who'd called him, and what she saw was something that came straight out of a magazine. A woman with straight jet-black hair, doe eyes, a button nose, and a small mouth set perfectly on olive skin kissed Athrun's cheeks, and for a brief moment, Cagalli wondered if she was a celebrity, but because she didn't watch too much TV, she couldn't really tell.

The woman wore an unbuttoned cream-colored storm-flapped skirted trench that revealed a charcoal sheath dress underneath, and her heels brought her height a little closer to Athrun's. Upon getting a good look at them, Cagalli almost felt the temptation to laugh. They stood out like sore thumbs — two very corporate-looking personalities among everyday folk, with the difference made more glaring by the fact that it was a weekend. Her laughter, however, was inhibited by a strange feeling that bubbled in her chest upon seeing the ease with which the two of them interacted and how closely they sat. And she was getting irrationally offended that Athrun hadn't noticed her still when she was just standing a few meters from them. It was almost a surreal experience, especially since the feelings in her were somewhat foreign…and very much inexplicable even if she were to contemplate the whole day.

Deciding it wouldn't do her any good to stick around, she sighed and turned to leave, only for her nose to bump into something solid. Cagalli was almost sent to the ground if it wasn't for the intrusive hand that grabbed her, and when she saw who she bumped into — and the smile that was sent her way — she fought to get away.

"I found you, Cagalli."

Cagalli was quick to put distance between them, crept out by the idea that he might have been standing behind her for a while now and she had remained unaware because her attention was on something else.

"Kismet, I tell you."

"How long have you been standing there?" she cagily asked, glaring in a way that suggested she wouldn't believe whatever he answered even if he were to tell the truth. When he tried to move closer, her voice involuntarily rose in pitch, "_Hey!_"

He instantly backed away and the defeated sigh he released disarmed her. "Look, Cagalli, I was—" he was cut off by an approaching voice.

"Cagalli?"

Cagalli's head swung towards the caller, and she figured that she might have called the attention of Athrun and his companion in her surprise a while ago. And now she was embarrassed beyond reason. Here was Athurn with his perfect companion, and here she was with her stalker of an ex-boyfriend. Of course, he didn't know about that last part, but that didn't make her feel any better.

"Anything the matter?" How Athrun made his inquiry sound concerned and indifferent at the same time, she would never find out, and if he hadn't deliberately eyed her ex-boyfriend from the corner of his eye before returning his focus on her, she wouldn't be clued in to his sudden chariness of the other guy.

Before she could reply, her ex-boyfriend beat her to it, "I was just leaving, man." He listlessly scratched the back of his ear, which Cagalli remembered as his mannerism when he was debating on what to do, before he addressed her again, "Same time, same place. Serious business, Cagalli. No more chasing." And then he left.

An uneasy second of silence passed.

"Did we interrupt something important?" Athrun's companion asked, stepping closer to Cagalli and then extending her hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Lessiane Amalfi."

"Uh, no. He's…an old friend…" Cagalli replied, still a little freaked out by what had just happened, then, remembering her manners, shook Lessiane's hand and introduced herself.

"You're all right?" Athrun asked.

"Of course, why won't I be?" her answer came out faster than she intended to, which she realized mustn't have sounded natural. "Anyway, uhm, what a coincidence to be meeting here of all places, huh?" Cagalli wanted to kill herself. That was such a pathetic ice breaker, not to mention a cheap shot at covering her sudden guilt for spying at the two of them earlier. "Anyway, I'll go ahead. I was just on my way home when the park caught my attention." She was on a roll, and not a positive one at that. She was bad at awkward situations like this one, and it was turning her into a crummy lying machine.

"I'll drive you home," Athrun easily offered.

"No! Uhm, I mean, I'll…I'll walk." Cagalli was more alarmed by the sudden thumping of her heart than by the offer and by the one who was offering. "Don't let me keep you…" she gave an awkward laugh then began to walk away.

"I think it's better if Athrun accompanies you," Lessiane piped up, stopping Cagalli in her tracks, and when she smiled, Cagalli knew the two of them didn't buy her lie about the man from earlier being an old friend of hers.

Cagalli was about to decline, but Athrun was already kissing Lessiane's cheek as a familiar farewell gesture, asking if she'd already called her driver, promising to meet her for dinner tomorrow night, and apologizing that he could not spend more time with her.

She had to look away. _Dammit._

"It was nice meeting you, Cagalli."

Cagalli responded appropriately, although if she were to be honest with herself, she didn't think "nice" was the right word. Although it wasn't "_un_-nice," it wasn't nice either, kind of like something she'd wish would happen not today but in the far future when she was sure Athrun and her would probably be back to being strangers — no confusing feelings included.

Lessiane waved goodbye as she walked opposite the direction they would be taking to go to her apartment, and Cagalli waxed anxious, wondering what god she had offended to be pushed in this awkward relationship with Athrun. She had to think fast; the two of them should not be alone in a room, and having him walk her home meant inviting him into her apartment, for politeness' sake, if for nothing else.

"Cagalli—"

"I feel like having a cheeseburger," she blurted out. "Do you feel like eating a cheeseburger? I do. I want a cheeseburger. Let's go have a cheeseburger." And before he could respond, she started walking towards the exit she'd entered from a while ago. There was a convenient McDonald's near her apartment — the same one she'd bought her earlier sundae from — and a fast food restaurant like that would surely have a lot of people. A lot of noisy people. A lot of noisy people that would make a good excuse for not discussing things.

**o-o**

Athrun found himself in front of an ash-complected teenager with an acne problem, asking if they wanted to upsize their French fries and drinks, to which he said no but to which Cagalli immediately said yes. The teen then proceeded to ignore him, preferring to talk to the lady who wanted to spend more.

When the boy went to retrieve their orders, Athrun turned to Cagalli. He wasn't dense, and he'd suspected she wouldn't want to be alone in a room with him, and instead of being offended, he thought it was amusing. He wasn't being arrogant, but he wouldn't say that she wasn't interested — it was obvious whenever he would get too close — and it was very interesting how hard she was fighting it, intriguing him more because he couldn't find a good reason she would keep staying away.

"When I asked for a date, I didn't think we'd end up at McDonald's," he said, referring to that day when he handed her her personalized Justice.

"This isn't a date."

Even under the offensive fluorescent lights of the establishment, Athrun thought the red managed to color her cheeks prettily.

"I'm paying," he easily replied, as if that alone was enough to convince her that this was a date.

"And a caramel sundae please," she told the cashier when he returned, then she turned to him again. "Of course you are. I don't have anything on me."

"I'll be expecting something in return, you know." He paid for their food before carrying the tray towards an empty booth.

"Thank you," she smirked.

"Funny, but that won't cover it."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, "let's eat." She began to peel the wrapper off her burger when she eyed him sharply, "And no talking. Not a peep from you."

He laughed but indulged her nonetheless.

The crowd was noisy: a bunch of teenagers flirting over at the other table, skaters making a racket at the tables by the exit, a group of yuppies grabbing a quick bite by the windows opposite them, kids running around, and parents trying to be parental.

Athrun had had a bad day, which was usual whenever he met with his father — the man simply refused to be satisfied with Athrun's work, which would make Athrun try to accomplish more in a small amount of time and which would end up frustrating him then eventually tiring him. If Lessiane hadn't called, he wouldn't have taken a breather. That woman was a blessing; she had this calming effect like Lacus, except where Lacus was almost a motherly presence, Lessiane was a nosy neighbor, and partnered with her eccentric humor and class, she made a deadly combination.

Although Lessiane was always good company, it was still really good fortune that he met Cagalli in the park, and now that he looked at her sitting there and trying to ignore him, he thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all.

He watched her eat, watched her watch other people, and realized that she took in every detail of those surrounding her. She was a people watcher, but was so unobtrusive in her glance that it came off as something she wasn't consciously doing, more like a predisposition, an unconscious hobby of a natural observer. He wondered if she drew conclusions or stored away information for later use. He himself was always aware of his surroundings, but he didn't take much interest in things that didn't have to do with him. Cagalli was really very interesting, and no matter how many times he repeated that to himself, it was still such a novelty to him.

When he finished his coke and she was finishing up her sundae, she sighed and looked at him. "You know, Athrun, that…uhm…time…"

"Yes?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. Uh, you don't have to bring me home. I can manage."

"What were you going to tell me?" he was undeterred, and judging by how fast a blush stole into her cheeks, what she was reluctant to tell him had got to have something to do with a certain incident dating almost two weeks back.

"Nothing."

He hazarded a guess, "The housewarming incident?"

"No!" her immediate answer was such a dead giveaway that he had to smile.

"Funny thing is, Dearka invited me over for breakfast this morning. He told me he was a drunken bastard that night."

"I wasn't…no…uhm, I wasn't going to talk about that…" she futilely continued to deny.

He stood up that moment, easily navigating his way to her side of the table. He could tell that she was alarmed, but before she could get another word out, he leant down, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her disbelieving mouth, swallowing her gasp and tasting subtle caramel still coating her tongue. He was glad that she had wanted to clear things up, even if she kept denying it, so glad in fact that he didn't mind that they were surrounded by a rowdy crowd.

His tiredness poured out of him, and he kissed her with no reservations in the middle of an overfilled fast food establishment; the rest of the world was too busy with their own lives to mind them anyway.

Her hand on his wrist was meant to still him — he could feel her nails trying to bite at his skin despite the layers preventing them — but her hand just remained there, almost a testament to her indecision: stop him or encourage him. And when she pulled away seconds too late, his name on her lips was breathy. Lightning cracked outside, rain began to pelt the city, and Athrun remained fixated on hooded amber eyes.

"Bastard," it was a half-hearted whisper of defiance.

He couldn't help but smile at the weak challenge in her voice. Cagalli would always be Cagalli, but he decided that enough was enough. He hadn't thought that he'd be pulled out of the game earlier, but when he was pushed back in, there was even less hesitation to chase her and win her. He only had a few months to stay in Orb before he had to return to Martius City to head another Genesis Motors project, and he intended for his stay to be as interesting as possible, and right now, interesting meant Cagalli.

"We're both unattached," he leant even closer and nipped at her ear, left a butterfly kiss on her jaw, then pulled her up. "What's there to think about? You want me, don't you?" He pulled her towards the exit, unmindful that it was pouring outside. "I want you." Then as if to further emphasize his point, he repeated, "I want you."

**o-o**

The cold spray of the shower could not distract her from the heat burning inside her as Athrun made quick work of her clothes, his mouth ravaging hers like the short amount of time they spent running in the rain to her apartment was such a deprivation and her kiss an oasis to satiate his thirst. For her part, she hadn't wasted time either, removing articles of his clothing with abandon as soon as the door was closed and leaving a wet mess in their wake.

"There's no getting away this time, Cagalli…" he whispered, a seductively commanding voice in her ear, before kissing her mouth, a greedy action that stole the reply from her lips.

There was no getting away this time, he said, and Cagalli didn't think she could pull another fast one on him. She hadn't intended for things to go this way, but the intensity with which he had said he wanted her a while ago had turned her insides to jelly. He wanted her, and his confident manner that suggested he believed she desired him the same way made her want him, too.

His hands were everywhere, teasing, skimming, probing, marking their territory with scorching touches that lit every nerve ending, and his skin against hers was such a deep contrast to the chilly tiles of the wall she was pushed against. There was no mistaking that the liquid fire he sent down her spine with his every move, every touch, every kiss, was a display of determination to have his way, and it rendered her weak in the knees, forcing her to cling to him, to draw strength from his person, and ultimately be in debt to the magic he worked on her.

Thrice she'd dreamed of him, and thrice she'd awoken feeling hot, bothered, and incredibly frustrated, unwilling to admit that she was attracted to him. And recently, she'd even been feeling guilty over something that she shouldn't be feeling guilty over because she had no duties to Athrun and he had no claim over her.

Cagalli had been unwilling because she couldn't get over the way they met, the way they had come together for the first time — she didn't do one night stands, she didn't go around sleeping with strangers, she didn't go around getting picked up and allowing herself to be picked up, but she did all three with him who was basically a stranger, someone she wouldn't have met if she hadn't fought with the other secretary in her previous job. Her stubbornness precluded her from volitionally giving in to his advances when they met again for the second time, the third time…_countless times_. But now, as he stroked a fevered desire in her, as he drove her into an earthly frenzy, she could sense the fight bleed off her, feeling surprisingly lightheaded and captivated as she moved with him in surrender. She didn't know what was with today that made it feel all right to give him power over her, but the strength of his desire that thrummed through his entire body and seeped off him in waves rendered her unable to think, unable to process anything else aside from his carnal efforts that her own body, she discovered, was more than willing to reciprocate.

He hooked her leg on his hip, pressing intimately close to her, his mouth nibbling on her collarbone, his free hand moving sensuously to cover one of her breasts, and she ached for him to take her. But he remained teasing, lingering at the edge with a promise for so much more but never taking the plunge, just like their first night together. And she could feel the roguish grin growing on his lips as he grazed her shoulder with his teeth before playfully nipping it. He knew she wanted him, _god_ he knew, and he was lording his control of her own body over her. _The fucking bastard. _But there was nothing she could do at the moment for she was currently helpless against his seduction, finding herself arching involuntarily towards him only for him to slide gratifyingly over her sex then deprive her of contact.

His fingers danced over sensitized nipples until they pebbled, and a moan was drawn out from her so craftily as he kissed a burning trail from her shoulder, up her throat, and to the corner of her mouth — _just to the corner of her mouth_, like a deceitfully sinless touch of the lips that cunningly stole the lingering sense of innocence — before swallowing the sound she made when he sealed his mouth resolutely over hers.

Her hands were never idle, caressing his defined chest, grabbing his arms, running her nails down his back, the sharp curve of his hips, and up his sides until one hand cradled his face and the other tangled with his hair in an effort to get even closer, to coax him to relieve her of the growing tension in her stomach brought on by his incessant teasing. Her anticipation was almost too painful that she nearly breathed a sigh of relief when, finally, heeding her silent plea, he brought her other leg up, carried her weight as if she weighed nothing at all, and slowly entered her.

His thrusts were tauntingly slow, tantalizingly deliberate, and what little part of her that wasn't completely mesmerized yet by the sensations he evoked from her marveled at his control. Her toes curled at his repeated easy thrusts, and when he broke the kiss, with a string of saliva still connecting their mouths, Cagalli found herself irrevocably aroused, so much more than she was just seconds ago, and a cry tore out of her mouth when he gave a sudden sharp thrust, hitting something deep inside her that sent her mewling for more.

"P-please…Athrun…"

As if something in him snapped, Athrun increased his tempo, settling for a rhythm that caused the friction between them to grow hotter, and a litany of mumbled words tumbled out of her mouth as he took her harder, thrust into her deeper — a continuous assault that she welcomed and encouraged with every whimper of his name that escaped her lips. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking, and she clung to him, feeling the knot in her stomach grow bigger and bigger — _Athrun…Athrun… _— until she unraveled in his arms, open and raw. She couldn't breathe through the overwhelming heat, and she gasped and tried to draw the same air he was breathing as she rode her orgasm, feeling it so strongly that her skin tingled and all she could feel was him moving inside her.

She held on, arching her back and pressing herself closer to him, and a few more thrusts later, her name echoed in her ears as he tumbled over the edge, and she relished the sweet warmth of his release that brought her a sense of completion.

**o-o**

Athrun didn't relax his hold on Cagalli even as he started to calm down, the beat of the water against his skin luring him back to reality. He nipped at her shoulder affectionately, waiting for his senses to return, and when they did, he carefully set her down, keeping his arms around her in a loose embrace.

"Hey," he whispered softly, careful not to break the comfortable silence.

He was rewarded by an almost shy cast of her eyes as she looked up, and he smiled when she didn't move away.

"Hey."

"Listen—"

"You win, Athrun. You got me for the rest of your stay here in Orb," she cut him off, speaking in a rush and looking everywhere except at him.

He tugged gently at her hair, forcing her to look at him. He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Why the sudden change of mind?"

Predictably enough, she pushed him off her and glared. "Fine! Let's be _just friends _inst—"

He caught her hands, grinned unabashedly at her, then kissed her to shut her up, running his tongue over her lower lip as though asking for permission before kissing her fully.

When he came up for air seconds later, Cagalli was breathing heavily and the familiar blush had already siphoned into her cheeks. He smiled rakishly. "The deal's been sealed," he breathed out in what he hoped was a beguiling whisper, but he must have sounded so pleased with himself because she started to laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face! Like a kid given candy!"

He shook his head as she continued to laugh at him, and she didn't stop even when he adjusted the shower spray so it hit her directly, but it soon came to him how to have the last laugh. "Come on, let's finish this shower," he placed his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb caressing the slope of her throat, "so I can eat my candy sooner."

For a second she looked puzzled. And then it registered. And _then_ she hit him. "Athrun, you horny bastard!"

This time, it was Athrun who was laughing at Cagalli's scandalized expression.

**xxxxx**


	16. XV: The One Where It's 'Recreational'

Title: Play of the Fates (15 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages and people, dead or alive, are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed. Citations and references will be found at the end of every chapter should they be made. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

Historical figure/s, real company/ies, and other personality/ies used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

Secrets have a way of being found out, and one as off-character as hers couldn't stay hidden for very long, so now she was driving her Justice to one of Damien's steakhouses situated just at the edge of the city to have dinner with him and Miriallia, and to undoubtedly be harassed about her new relationship — if it could even be called that — if she were to judge the tone of last night's phone call. The other night, she'd dined with Athrun and his friends in one of the newest classy restaurants that had begun to litter North Avenue in the CBD, and she had to admit that she was impressed with all of them, not particularly with their status in life, but with their way of handling it. She'd had her share of aristocratic parties, of snooty dinners, of casual luncheons, and of over-the-top shindigs with celebrities and other elite, but Athrun's group of friends was something else all together.

Athrun had surrounded himself with couturiers and models, with golf pros and agents to the stars, and even though he himself was on the business side of things, his constant appearance in his friends' parties and galas caught the media's attention, and soon he was raised to the pedestal famous celebrities were placed on. He was also very business-savvy, so the attention he garnered, Cagalli thought, probably wasn't solely based on his connections. With his neat, semi-preppy good looks sprucing up magazine covers, it wasn't a secret that the cameras loved his face, not to mention all those females, both young and old, who, under normal circumstances, wouldn't pick up a copy of _Forbes_ magazine.

They were a formidable lot, he and his friends, but it was downplayed by their personal breach of upper class propriety, kind of like a violation that wasn't so overly crass that it warranted sneers from the stiff _alta sociedad_ or cheers from perpetual violators such as blue-blood rock stars who indulged in earthly wares hawked by teenage millionaires out to score as many studs as possible. They were a group of people who handled wealth with an easy hand that wasn't wont to flaunt, and they behaved so cruelly normal, aside from a few luxuries — like silly golf — they couldn't part with.

They were the male and female counterparts of her own Damien — young and living a sybaritic life handed to them in a silver platter when they were born. Cagalli almost wanted to laugh at their glossy-magazine lives.

As Cagalli drove through the building traffic, she picked out the oddest of the odd group. Kira was a professor in a prestigious university, too young for his profession but too bright for other things. She liked Kira, she found. He was of modest means, of humble savoir-faire, but he seamlessly acted so in place, his deportment the same towards each individual in the group, like a child unimpressed by the money of his friends and found nothing wrong with playing with the master of the house's son in the mud on rainy days. He simply belonged, and having jobs that usually dealt with different kinds of people, Cagalli knew what she was talking about.

The radio announced the traffic situation, and Cagalli was glad she was almost out of the busiest streets of the city. By the time she reached the restaurant, a fine drizzle had started to fall. The weather was really getting crazy; it was summer and kids vacationed to different beaches, but all they'd had in the past weeks were windy overcasts and drizzles that put a damper on summer frolicking. It was crazy.

Being lucky to have spotted an empty parking slot quite easily, she stepped out of her car in dark jeans, a white cable-knit sweater with a folded-over ribbed collar, and flat, modest gladiator sandals. Rain pattered on her umbrella, and she cradled the umbrella shaft between her shoulder and cheek as she pulled on the sleeve of her sweater to check her watch: fifteen minutes late for their dinner. The walk from the graveled parking lot to the patio was short, and when she opened the doors to the foyer, the receptionist lifted her head to greet her before recognition dawned on her face.

"Ms. Athha," she smiled familiarly, "Mr. Lewis and Ms. Haw have a table out in the marquee." She eyed her umbrella and offered to take it to be placed on the rack.

"Ah, thanks," Cagalli replied, and soon after, she was seated with Miriallia and Damien. Dinner was already waiting and it was scrumptious.

Cowboy Classic was one of a kind, and it was the only different steakhouse from Damien's chain of steakhouses that bore the name Sky Grasper for their impressive skylights. Cowboy Classic was elegant in front and a true wooden steakhouse in the back, a combination of wooden refinement and smoky, laidback roadhouse feel — it was the only steakhouse she knew that had an anteroom made of polished wood and glass, with a grand reception desk of the most lustrous malachite she'd seen used as a tabletop.

With its double-faceted presentation and prices above the usual steakhouses, Cowboy Classic unsurprisingly became one of the city's hotspots, the novelty attracting the glitterati and all the other right people that gave it a good boost of publicity. _God_, she thought, _people are so pretentious. _And Damien was a shrewd bastard of an aristocrat who knew how to use that to his advantage. Business acumen, he'd called it. She'd laughed at him once, but she'd known the truth behind the principle: People love everything that's shiny and bright and expensive; when Marlboro once lowered its prices, its market sales dipped instead of soared because people who bought it thought the quality _and_ the social ranking that came with an expensive indulgence had dropped. _Pretentious._

She'd been surrounded by these very same pretentious people more times than she'd like, and Athrun's crew was surprisingly refreshing even though she had really only known them for a short while. Lacus was sometimes polite to a fault, but her quiet conviction won Cagalli over. Kira, she'd already decided, she liked, similar to how she would like a brother if she had one. Yzak was a natural ball bouncing on two different courts, offensive in a minute then defensive the next, and he amused her immensely. Dearka she'd known the longest, and she loved him dearly despite his quirky arrogance. Of course, it was a given that she liked Athrun — she had to or she wouldn't be sleeping with him. And the last one, Lessiane, she was a black-haired Barbie doll that used her sexuality not to attract men but to get things done the way she wanted them done — a talent she used to make herself an efficient agent to the most famous celebrities, Cagalli discovered; she'd heard of a certain Lessiane Amalfi before, but she hadn't met or seen her until they'd met at the park the other day. Cagalli had witnessed something in her that she hadn't seen the first time they met at the park, and she'd seen it in the way she interacted with the men in the group during dinner.

"She's amazing, and if I were a guy, I'd definitely go for her," Cagalli told Damien and Miriallia around a forkful of prime rib roast. She and Miriallia were regular customers of Cowboy Classic, and although the parking lot was always full and all the tables always occupied, they always dined with Damien so reservations were never a problem. At first, Damien spoiled them with free dinners, but after a while, she and Miriallia naturally settled on paying for their own.

"You're uneasy about her, aren't you?" Miriallia easily said, taking a bite of her grilled prawns.

"What?" Cagalli was totally perplexed. She could only remember praising Lessiane in the past minute, so how did Mirialia come up with that?

Damien looked at her disbelievingly, and in his deliberately rumpled shirt and dark, tousled hair, it seemed like he'd propositioned her and she'd just refused the best sex promised. He was a terribly good-looking fiend, and he took the best from both worlds. Even though she'd seen something of him in Athrun and in his friends, Damien was set apart by something none of them could touch; his easy assurance of how he carried himself was unparalleled — he looked at the world in the eye and had long ago told it to fuck itself.

"_What_?" Cagalli was getting defensive.

"Cagalli, _chérie_, you pile on the praise for people you're uneasy with," Damien explained, using a tone he would use on a child.

"That doesn't make sense," Cagalli deadpanned, clearly sending the message that, for her, what they said was simply nonsensical.

Miriallia waved a sudden, dismissive hand. "So, who's Athrun? You've told us how insistent he is and dinner with him and his friends, but we hardly get a picture of him." Then Miriallia grinned. "Except, of course, from all the covers we've seen him on. God, he's gorgeous! How'd you meet such a piece of art?"

The abrupt change in topic confused Cagalli somewhat, and although having to depart from the subject of her so-called unease towards Lessiane was a relief, the new one Miriallia steered them towards wasn't any better. The first meeting was everything she stood against, and the conditions of their relationship were something she didn't believe in before, so how would Miriallia and Damien understand her breaking her moral code?

Around the serving of dessert, Cagalli was about done telling them how she and Athrun met and how their relationship was nothing but consensual sex until he had to leave Orb. That last, she didn't necessarily have to share, but they were her best friends and she felt that omitting it would be lying.

"No judging, okay?" The looks Miriallia and Damien gave her suggested that they thought it impossible not to judge and that she was crazy to even ask that. True friends told each other shit and described shit they'd done as shit, Damien had once told her and Miriallia in his rare bourgeois mood.

For the next half hour, Cagalli told them about their first meeting — sans the description of the _real_ activity, of course — how they kept bumping into each other in unexpected places, including her very own house, how he'd unabashedly propositioned, and how she had now accepted.

"Closet slut," Miriallia said in neutral tone that made Cagalli bristle.

"More like a hard-to-get, two-hundred-dollar whore," Damien quietly argued, but before Cagalli could take proper offense, he continued, "Good for you!"

The grin on both their faces were so genuinely pleased that Cagalli deflated and felt foolish for thinking that they were insulting her. "God, I thought you were discriminating against me!"

"_Chérie_" — that tone again, like she was an ignorant child he had the misfortune of teaching, and Cagalli suppressed the urge to laugh — "it's what you call 'recreational sex.' God knows you need it." He signaled to a passing waiter for another bottle of Carlsberg Hof before returning his attention to Cagalli. "Hooking up isn't only for falling in love, you know."

Cagalli had never had a casual relationship because she didn't believe in it, at least, not until Athrun. That was the reason she didn't do one-night stands or didn't get boyfriends easily. She wanted to fall in love, fall in love so deeply that she'd be willing to give all of herself, but the right man just hadn't come along yet. Maybe after Athrun she'd find whom she was looking for.

Damien continued to preach the finer points of recreational relationships, and in the secrecy of Cowboy Classic where Athrun was far away from, Cagalli sighed and relented. "He's _is_ a heckuva good-looking son of a bitch." Even though she'd resisted his charms long and hard, it didn't mean that she thought him plain-looking; in fact, she would admit that he was one of the handsomest men she'd seen. Not that she'd tell him that, of course. "So," she took a deep breath as though she'd just completed a taxing activity, "that's it. That's everything, less the more private parts you don't need to know." Finishing the remainder of her beer in one gulp, she stood up before they started firing more questions. "Now excuse me while I go to the ladies." If she were lucky, they'd take that as a sign that she was finished with her story and would be very glad to come back to a different discussion.

When Cagalli was out of sight, Miriallia speared a slice of Damien's steak. "I just wish she won't hurt herself on this one. She's already getting jealous of that big shot agent to the stars."

"From the way she told her story, you can tell how close Lessiane Amalfi is to Athrun, and everyone would get jealous of someone clinging to their man, no matter how free and easy the relationship is. Ah, but she's a big girl. She can do casual."

Miriallia laughed. "I hope you're right, Damien, I hope you're right."

**o-o-o**

Cagalli wondered about what Miriallia and Damien had said when they had dinner last time at Cowboy Classic; she hadn't pursued their line of thinking because that would've opened up new avenues for discussing her private life, and she hadn't been quite fond of the idea.

Lessiane was a great girl, and they had gotten along well when she'd dined with them, so what were her two friends talking about her being uneasy with Lessiane? It just didn't make sense. Maybe she leant just a little too familiarly on Athrun on occasion, or touched his arm when they talked, or kissed him goodbye on the cheek when they parted, but then again, she did all that with the others, too. She was confident, and Lacus laughed right alongside her. There couldn't be anything wrong, could it? A little green demon spoke in her mind, but she quashed the voice and told herself she wasn't at all jealous. That was just stupid. Lessiane Amalfi was Lessiane Amalfi, hot shot agent to the stars who just happened to be close friends with Athrun.

Shaking her head to rid it of nasty thoughts, she began to type her report, only to pause and look at Athrun who was walking back and forth and talking on the phone. Since that time she finally went to bed with him almost two weeks ago, they hadn't had another romp in the sheets. Either she was out for a late meeting or he was too busy to come over. She wondered quite detachedly how he had the time to bother her before when now that they were together he could hardly squeeze her into his schedule. One thing they didn't miss out on though was having lunch together; Athrun simply insisted on it.

"Hey," she called his attention when he hung up, "who were you talking to?"

Athrun cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Do you really want to know?" He laughed when Cagalli shrugged. There was something new he discovered about Cagalli, and he'd learned it over the days that passed: silence was something she didn't thrive in so she always tried to break it when it crept over, and more often than not, even tried to prevent it by segueing into another discourse when things were showing signs of dying down. She was quite a talker once she got comfortable. She'd regale him of things that happened to her — quite animatedly at that — and although the exchange was nothing very personal, he'd learnt little things about her. Little things like she'd rather have coffee than tea, and cocoa rather than coffee; she liked writing although she shared that it was always a drag for her to start; and she ritually slept in on Saturdays, except when one of her friends decided to get her up.

"I forgot to tell you. My stay's been extended for another two months. There's something else I've been assigned to do since I'm already in Orb," he changed topics, knowing full well that Cagalli had no interest in whoever called him; it was just one of her ways to get a conversation going. His original stay had already been extended because of some problems with the negotiations, and to add a couple more months of extension meant he was already looking at almost half a year's worth of extended leave from the PLANT office. Although his stay in Orb was nothing close to being a vacation, it surprised him to realize that his work load wasn't as heavy as when he was sitting in his office back in PLANT.

"Lucky me," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes before letting her fingers fly over the keyboard of her laptop.

He wandered over to her, brushing her hair to one side before kissing her nape and smiling when he felt a shiver run through her. She was as sarcastic as ever, and nothing had really changed between them except that now she didn't try biting his head off whenever he kissed her.

"Lucky you indeed." He continued to feather her nape and the side of her neck with butterfly kisses intent on teasing, a deliberately lazy attempt at arousing desire rather than outright seduction.

He blew on the patch of skin he'd gently caught between his teeth and nibbled on earlier, feeling a mischievous grin crack his lips as he felt another shiver race through her. "I've been meaning to ask…" he trailed off, letting the request for permission hang in the air for her to pick up and grant. He extricated himself, moving towards the couch to lean on its backrest.

She brushed off any pretense of actually working hard on her report, then looked at him with an expression that clearly expressed her disbelief over his withdrawal — _seriously?_ She knew he probably didn't intend to seduce her, but it had been half a month of repressed desires and she wanted him to make a move, even though she wouldn't admit to it since it had also been only half a month since she'd stopped fantasizing about him with guilt.

When it didn't look like she would pursue his line of thinking, he ploughed through with his question, "That guy, in the park, did you already meet with him? Will you meet up with him?" Her expression showed signs of closing off, so he quickly added, "It probably isn't any of my business—"

"It's not," she quickly cut him off.

"You'd looked afraid then," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I was surprised, more like it. Let's not talk about it, Athrun. Let's not talk about him. He's just an old friend."

Athrun was likely to believe that as much as he was likely to believe himself gay. He knew he didn't have the right to nose around her personal affairs, but something about that encounter had made him uncomfortable, and the days that passed didn't do much to shake off the feeling. "If he's just an old friend, then there's no harm in me knowing about him, is there?"

Cagalli looked irritated. "_Why_ are you asking anyway? I don't question you about your friends. You keep yours, I keep mine."

"Why don't you ask me then?"

"_What_? No!" She walked towards him with arms crossed in front of her and eyes glaring.

Athrun almost smiled. There was something intrinsically amusing about Cagalli trying to intimidate him, this woman who stood only up to his shoulders at full height and trying to look at him down her nose because he was currently partially sitting down so their heights were brought a little closer.

"If we have to lay down one more condition for this relationship, it's staying out of each other's separate lives."

"You've met my friends. I haven't met any of yours."

"Only because you asked me to, not the other way around. You have your secrets, I have mine."

That was where she made a mistake because now that she'd implied that part of her life was a secret, the more curious he got. He didn't make it a habit to pry secrets out of other people, but he was sleeping with this woman and he might as well take what he could. Besides, she made things interesting, more so when she dangled information before him only to decide to keep it away.

"Go on, ask. There's got to be something you're curious about."

She stayed silent.

"I wear briefs instead of boxers. But you already know that."

Despite herself, she blushed. "Athrun…" she tried sounding a warning note for him to stop this childish conduct.

"I met Lacus when we were teenagers, but our parents knew each other longer and had arranged for us to get married," he continued like she hadn't talked.

"I don't care. Why are you telling me this?"

"I bailed Dearka and Yzak out of jail once for disruptive behavior at a funeral."

His hands found their way to the hem of her shirt, his thumbs tracing invisible patterns on the skin underneath, his movements so casual it almost seemed as though their intimacy had always been there.

Cagalli huffed, pretending it didn't affect her. "Those aren't even really secrets."

She couldn't quite understand why he wanted to know. It wasn't as if it would do him any good if he knew; on the contrary, it might even prove disastrous, although she might only be the one thinking that. Not that she thought he would get jealous about it or anything. Of course not. But if truth were to be told, she did want to know something about his friends, but it would be foolish to confess that because there was only really one person she was curious about, and why that was was something she hadn't even admitted to herself.

"Kira wasn't always so smart. I had to tutor him."

Cagalli sighed exasperatedly. "Look, Ath—"

"Lessiane and I were married."

**xxxxx**

Reference/s:

"I bailed Dearka and Yzak out of jail once for disruptive behavior at a funeral." – This is a vague reference to two scenes (arrest and stained glass breaking) on _House M.D., Season 5 Episode 4: Birthmarks_


	17. XVI: The One With The Elvis Impersonator

Title: Play of the Fates (16 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages and people, dead or alive, are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed. Citations and references will be found at the end of every chapter should they be made. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

Historical figure/s, real company/ies, and other personality/ies used is/are for fictitious purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Before she could stop herself, she'd already sucked in a breath that was more than enough to tell him that he'd more than caught her attention. When she thought that there was something she wanted to know about Athrun and Lessiane, being married to each other wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. In fact, it was the furthest thing from her mind.

"You were engaged to Lacus," she bit out, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt stupid. She'd just implied that he had cheated on Lacus when they were together, and although she might not be far off given what he had just told her, it wasn't fair to ring an accusatory tone when she didn't even know half of the story. Still, she thought, just how many women was he planning to have walk down the aisle for him?

"Yes."

Cagalli stilled the fingers that were making themselves familiar with her flesh. _"What?"_

"Judging by your tone, you either think I cheated on Lacus or I cheated on Lacus. Not much room to maneuver, is there? You have got me cornered!"

If there was one thing Cagalli would never understand about Athrun, it was how he was so openly amused by the strangest things — things that no sane person would find the least bit amusing. And there was no doubt about it: Her reaction to his so-called secret amused him immensely.

"I will smack you, Athrun, I will smack you good to wipe that grin off your face."

He shook off her hands and continued the exploratory journey of his fingers inside her shirt, ghostly touches that raised the hair on her arms and sent tiny shocks down her spine. When his thumbs brushed the edge of her bra with a promise of an erotic thrill later on, Cagalli found herself having to keep a tighter rein on her indignation to keep her from melting like putty in his hands.

"See, _you_ want to know, but directly asking is out of the question because you want me to volunteer the information. You're very curious, Cagalli, so curious you'd tell me something I want to know so I'd give you details without you having to ask." His finger lingered at the front clasp of her bra for a second. "Tell me I'm wrong." Then he flicked the fastening open.

The ragged breath Cagalli took was involuntary, but she refused to back down. "Fine, I maybe the teensiest bit curious, but how do I know that you're not just jerking me around? I have no reason to trust you."

He palmed the fleshy mounds, as if testing their weight in his hands, and then drew away from her breasts, only to reach for the hem of her shirt to get her out of it. She let him, and he promptly dipped his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone.

"Do you think I'm lying?" he whispered against her skin.

"Yes."

"No, you don't."

He slowly eased the straps of her bra off her shoulders, his lips moving from her neck to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Then he stole the retort from her mouth when he dipped his head lower and suckled her, completely taking her by surprise. A hiss of pleasure passed her lips as she buried her fingers in his hair.

He stopped just when she thought she'd come close to shattering from the sensations vibrating under her skin, and just as she was about to protest the loss of contact, he kissed her full on the mouth, tilting her chin so he could kiss her better, kiss her more deeply, kiss her more possessively until even her breath was his to claim.

When they pulled away to draw air, Cagalli's head was spinning, and only through sheer determination to not be outdone did she manage to land a shot, "A kiss like that still won't make me talk."

With hands skimming the waistband of her shorts and his breath a hot caress on her lips, he easily deflected her blow, "Sex will." Cagalli gave him an impossible look. "That and the fact that I'll tell you about my marriage in exchange."

"I don't want to know about your marriage," she let out with difficulty. It was getting harder to think and talk when he had his hand inside her shorts, cupping her through the material of her panties. "And you're lying. If you got married _after_ getting out of the engagement with Lacus — as you want me to believe — then it would've been all over not just social magazines, but business magazines as well. The most eligible bachelor can't get…can't get married in secret." The last part was almost just above a whisper as she tried to withstand his attack, and she almost groaned when he suddenly retrieved his hand and rested them on her hips, keeping silent.

Despite the halting jolts of pleasure he was torturing her with, she managed to feel good about his silence. It boosted her ego. She had gotten him, and there was no other way around what she said because it was true. Someone as celebrated as he was deserved to be put in his place, one little, smart maneuvering at a time.

With the marriage issue behind her, which she would never admit was a relief, a surge of confidence began to pump in her veins. He always managed to look so impeccably attired, even when dressed in casual clothes like the salmon polo shirt and bootcut-fit, broken-in chinos he was currently wearing, and a mad temptation to get him as human as she was gripped her. And as soon as the feeling washed over her, she realized with just the smallest shred of embarrassment that the only way to do that was to get him naked before he could do the same to her. She needed to work; she was already down to her shorts and panties while he only had his shoes off because she didn't allow shoes inside her home in the first place.

Extending her arms, she deliberately brushed against his crotch before reaching for his belt, unbuckling it with fingers whose sense of purpose was belied by the slight tremor of defiance. She'd just about popped the button of his dark khaki pants when he spoke again, the tone of which made vague by the breathy quality his voice had taken — she'd like to assume she was the cause of that.

"He can't, now can he?"

She splayed her hands on the taut skin underneath the cotton of his shirt, and with his pants being gloriously low-riding enough, she could trace her fingers freely over his hipbone. He just stayed where he was, unmoving, and the submission of control overrode Cagalli's natural instinct to call him on the compliment he threw towards himself. As she inched his shirt over his body and over his head, Cagalli, at the moment, didn't care if Athrun considered himself the most eligible bachelor, more so when she kissed her way down to his chest and felt the ripple of reaction across his skin that seemed to have come from deep beneath. Her fingers traced invisible patterns down the sides of his torso until her hands rested on the lowered waistband of his pants, imitating his movements earlier. Then she paused, as if considering her next move, before tilting her head and licking at the corded muscles on the side of his neck that tensed as her fingers finally brought down his zipper. She pressed closer, making sure she ground unabashedly against him, and she felt his arousal through the fabric of her own shorts. He groaned, but other than involuntary reactions, he was staying still quite perfectly.

"What if," he started and she could feel the vibration in his throat on her lips, "he was able to?"

She opened her mouth wider and bit him, not enough to hurt him but enough to express her aversion to his interruption. However, as soon as her brain processed what he uttered, she withdrew ever so slowly to give her time to school her expression — she had as much luck with it as much as she had with her French class in high school, which she flunked.

"Why are we still pursuing this topic?" she tried to sound aggravated. It was difficult to conceal her curiosity when he was offering the best bait — not to mention how aroused she was — but she had to try, which ultimately proved to be the wrong tactic as he easily saw right through her: The grin threatening to split his face in half told her so. She'd been wrong to think she had him.

"Because I still want to know, and now I've made you curious about my past so you're going to divulge what I want to know so I'd tell you what _you_ want to know in return."

"You're not supposed to psychoanalyze me, you know. I minored in psychology and could beat you any day." She marveled at how he could keep talking when something more pressing was almost peeking out of his pants. He was driving her insane with his self control — _really_ — when she herself was a bundle of mixed emotions: lust, annoyance, and wonder at his tenacity.

"Yes, you can. But that's not the point. The point is, you should give up and tell me, Cagalli. You know you want to."

"No!" The force of her answer wasn't merely due to the stirrings of annoyance in the pit of her stomach, but more to the fact that she was startled out of her mind when he pulled her with him as he let himself fall over the backrest. He landed on the softness of the couch and she let out an _oof_ of air as she landed on the firm plains of his upper torso. However, before she could smack him for startling her, he flipped them over so he was pinning her down with his weight. She tried to move her arms, but he had her wrists pinioned above her head.

Athrun attacked her mouth with the force of a man starved, his tongue sweeping over blunt teeth and taking with it the remaining fight in her body. She never doubted he was good at his business, good at interacting with other people, good at looking good, but the one thing she was terribly sure of was that he was good at kissing, so good that he could kiss away the debate ready to spring out of her mouth.

With her hands secured above her head and his free hand cupping and kneading a breast, Cagalli thought to herself that sometimes, submission like this one was exhilarating, more so when the person she'd relinquished control to knew his way around a woman's body. And when he released her hands, she was more inclined to wrap them around his warm body than re-establish command.

He kissed his way down the column of her throat, scraping his teeth gently over the skin. His movements were calculated, taunting in their unhurriedness and certainty. There was no hesitation in the way he possessed every inch of skin, and when he suckled her breasts, taking his time until she was mewling, she marveled at the possibility that he could bring her over the edge without granting friction to where she needed it the most.

He made quick work of her shorts, but chose to slowly remove her panties, slowly gliding the cloth along the length of her legs until she lay naked before him. She was never conscious of her own body, naturally accepting what was given to her, but his open scrutiny caused her skin to prickle as if tiny icicles were sliding along her flesh while a lick of flame tortured her insides. She watched as he placed his hands on her knees, parting them before dipping his head to kiss the inside of her thigh and moving at a torturous pace towards the source of her exquisite pain. And when he reached his goal, Cagalli almost came undone.

He claimed her with his mouth, effectively lighting every nerve ending in her body, and just when she thought she would combust, he withdrew, undressed completely, and loomed over her without the intention of finishing his job.

"The ball's in my court, Cagalli," he told her smoothly, and if the pun was intentional or not, he didn't give any indication.

Cagalli couldn't believe his stubbornness, but as she ran her fingers over his back, she felt his tension, felt the strain of his control that was at odds with his easy tone. He wasn't nearly in control as much as he was displaying, and his determined pursuit of information tugged at the corners of her mouth until she was grinning widely at him.

"You cad," she let out breathlessly, giving in because at the moment, she didn't think she could stand any more teasing: The coil inside was ready to spring apart. "I'll tell you, okay, I'll tell you, but after…" she trailed off, arching towards him to get him to move.

He needn't further encouragement, and he drove deep and true inside her. His skin on hers was electrifying, and his motions were a no non-sense drive that made her toes curl. Making love with Athrun was like a roller coaster ride, a never-ending set of loops that left her breathless and panting, and where the final climb built so much anticipation that she was rendered dizzy when the drop ultimately happened, its full force triggering an eruption of butterflies in her stomach.

Moments later, she was draped over his chest, bathing in the afterglow and letting languor take over her. He ran a lazy finger down her spine, drawing abstract patterns on her skin every now and then, and when he yawned, her head rose with his chest.

"I'm waiting."

"You're nosy."

"Only because you made such a fuss over it."

"Whatever," she retorted half-heartedly, barely getting the word out as his earlier yawn drew a similar reaction from her. "That guy, he's my ex. And, um, he sort of…kinda…became, you know, like a stalker…"

"Hm."

"But he was pretty harmless. I mean, no trailing around, at least, not really. A few phone calls now and then, but not recently though. No threatening. Just, well, he had a habit of popping out of nowhere sometimes." She didn't think she had to tell him exactly how her ex-boyfriend had bothered her, especially when no real damage had been done anyway.

Cagalli felt uncomfortable discussing her ex-boyfriend with him, and she consoled herself with the fact that he'd be telling her something about Lessiane later in return for her troubles. Maybe Damien and Miriallia were right: She was wary of Lessiane, but she didn't want to admit it even to herself so she pointed out every good thing about her to sway away from the less savory aspects of her unwarranted jealousy.

"So you didn't file for a restraining order?" His question made her feel stupid.

"Well…he wasn't so much as a threat than an annoyance. Showing up in places he shouldn't be showing up."

"Didn't he just accost you in the park?"

"Not really. And that time was different, like he had something important to say. I don't know. I was just surprised, is all."

"So you're gonna meet up with him? Or have you already?"

Cagalli thought she detected a tinge of irritation in his voice, but she shrugged it off. "No, I haven't, not—"

"Then don't go."

She gritted her teeth at his tone, but she forced to speak normally, "He can't do anything in a public place. And he had sounded so sincere then. He wasn't exactly a bad guy…it's just that we broke up rather unexpectedly. He's too attached, is all, like a puppy…just not as cute."

"It's been two weeks. I'm guessing the invitation has expired."

It hadn't. Just yesterday, she had received an email from him; since she had changed numbers and address, emailing was the only way left for him to contact her. In it he'd told her that he would be in _that_ place every Tuesday and Thursday and that if she decided to honor his request, he would be waiting. There had been no other details, no other frivolities included — not even a greeting — and it naturally piqued her curiosity. But Athrun didn't need to know all that, and she didn't feel obligated to tell him anyway. "Yes, I suppose so."

He hummed his agreement, as if to emphasize his point that she shouldn't consider going, and when he didn't offer any more words, Cagalli seized the chance to ask about his marriage.

"So? How about you?"

"What about me?"

She slapped his chest to inform him he had to reciprocate her disclosure. He shifted, paused, then shifted again so he could sit up.

"Aren't you hungry? I haven't eaten lunch when I came here. Show me what you can do in the kitchen."

She watched appreciatively as he uncoiled from the sofa and stretched, comfortable in his nudity, before donning his pants, but she wouldn't be sidetracked. She made to grab his discarded shirt, caught the intimacy of such an act, thought better of it, then grabbed the afghan off the backrest of the couch instead, wrapping it around herself before following him to the kitchen.

"You're not avoiding answering, are you?" She stood beside him in front of the open fridge.

"Not necessarily." He took out two eggs, a whole green bell pepper, cheese, and a sealed pack of bacon. "Omelette, please?" He dumped everything on the side of the counter nearest the stove then moved to the opposite side.

Cagalli rolled her eyes and fixed the afghan wrapped around her to keep it from falling.

"You stay on that side and I stay on this side," he said, "while I tell you the story."

Pulling a pan out of a cupboard, she replied, "Why do I have the feeling that you're using the counter as a barricade?"

He grinned almost cheekily. "You're imagining it. Do you know how to cook?"

"No, I just thought I'd get a pan and dance around with it."

"That could work, too."

She thrust a bowl and a whisk towards him. "Here, beat the eggs while I slice the pepper and bacon."

He seemed to consider the bowl and whisk in her hands before he shook his head. "I'll do the slicing. Give me a knife. I'll be safer that way," he muttered the last part.

"What?" She gave him what he needed then started on the eggs.

"Nothing. I said that afghan looks good on you."

"You're stalling you know." When he looked at her as though he was chastising her for accusing him, she laughed. "So, how did you and Lessiane get married without alerting the press?" Now that she thought about it, it was a good thing they had the counter between them and tasks to do because broaching the subject wasn't exactly comfortable for her and the physical distance somehow put her at ease.

He eyed the pepper for a second before slicing it in half, and the manner with which he performed it suggested that the only thing he knew how to do in the kitchen was wait to be served. He put aside the other half to be returned to the fridge before he spoke, "Elvis impersonator, three guests, and Vegas."

She arched an eyebrow. "That would still raise attention. Vegas isn't known to keep marriages of known people a secret."

"Not if the priest was contracted. Wasn't even a certified wedding officiant."

"_What?" _Now she knew why he wanted a counter between them and a knife out of her hands. "Athrun!" She could just kill him. The tone with which he had told her he was married was as somber as someone's requiem that, even though she'd been inclined to disbelieve, she couldn't help but take it as the truth, more so when he'd implied he was able to get married without alerting the press. Not that his supposed marriage was a very big concern because it was in the past, but since it had been with Lessiane, she'd gotten a little disquieted. And now he was telling her that it was a fake, clearly revealed only to get a secret out of her, and that intention, she found, was very irritating. He wasn't legitimately married; it was a joke and she believed him.

At that moment, she couldn't quite tell whether she was relieved or not that he had the knife.

He hurried over his words under the pressure of her glare. "Lessiane was drunk, madly in love with a friend of mine, and wanted to make him finally pay attention to her. Don't be fooled by her classy appearance. She's a French fry short of a happy meal. It's why she's so good at her job. Only a nutcase can be so good at handling celebrity clients and bloodsucker producers."

Cagalli planted a hand on her hip, not placated by his explanation. "And you went along with it? What were you, _fifteen_? And you got me thinking it was serious so I would tell you what you wanted to know! I'm giving you five seconds to explain before I crack your skull with this pan." There were times when she had a hard time reconciling this Athrun with the smart, straight-laced Athrun business magazines loved. Sometimes she forgot he kept crazy company like Dearka who probably influenced him to drive on the wrong side of the road.

"I thought it was funny. And because _I_ agreed, Nicol snapped out of his stupidity, socked me, and married Lessiane that same night. It was a drunken affair, but this time with a legal officiant."

Looking at Athrun who was dodging her glare by going back to his task and studiously slicing the pepper into thin strips, she couldn't help but let go of her indignation. She sighed. There was really no point in being mad at him as she herself had just given him a lie a while ago. She could already see the finer print of their relationship: have a good time while avoiding investment in actual feelings. And much to her own surprise, it didn't bother her as much as she originally thought it would.

"And what did you get for your troubles? A heap of thanks?"

"If a heap of thanks means a black eye and a good bruising, then yes."

Cagalli couldn't help but laugh at how affronted he looked as he remembered events from that time. "Why wasn't this Nicol there during the dinner? Away on business?" If Nicol had been there, she was sure Lessiane wouldn't have acted too familiarly with the other guys. Right then and there, Cagalli mentally hit herself. Damn, she hated being bitter. And the only thing she hated more was being jealous.

She noticed how the knife stilled mid-slice before it once again bit into the skin of the pepper, then Athrun replied calmly, as though he hadn't missed a beat, "Nicol Amalfi passed away three years ago."

Now that she heard the whole name, she vaguely remembered snippets of news from way back. Nicol Amalfi was a world-class pianist and was on a world tour until a car crash killed him. She never thought Athrun was friends with him.

A model-turned-designer, an esteemed professor, a professional linksman, one of the most sought-after models, an agent to the biggest names in showbiz, and now a world-class musician. She almost felt compelled to snicker at his menagerie of high-profile friends, but she knew better than to be rude in the face of someone who had lost a friend.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Athrun. Were you very close?"

"It's been three years," was all he said.

He set aside the knife and presented to her, with much relish, the chopping board where he'd carefully sliced the pepper into thin strips. His actions spoke louder than words, and he couldn't have found a better way to dismiss the topic. Nicol was obviously an unwelcome discussion.

"Who knew you could julienne peppers so perfectly?" She relented for now; there was no use in making things awkward between them when everything was going fine as it was. "What's next? Proportionally diced bacon?"

"And professionally grated cheese."

**o-o-o**

Cagalli tucked the receiver into the crook of her neck, looking for a specific document among the piles of reports on her desk while trying to have a conversation on the phone. She had a meeting in an hour and she needed that document to show the board.

"_Pet, are you listening?"_

"Yes I am." She pressed her intercom and asked her secretary if she'd seen the file she was looking for, saying thanks when she told her she'd put it away in Cagalli's filing cabinet.

"_The point of listening, you see, is not talking to another person while I'm still talking. Love, prioritize."_

Cagalli smiled at his dramatic sigh over being placed second after her work and at his predilection for hypocorisms. Over the years, he'd called her many different things — sweet cheeks, love, pet, sweetheart — that he was beginning to rub off on her. She sometimes found herself calling Miriallia and Damien "honey," and the first time she'd done it, they were so surprised that the conversation actually stopped. She never used pet names, at least, nothing that was more endearing than "bastard" according to her friends.

"Look, I have a meeting in an hour and I still need to gather some papers. I have a conference tomorrow morning, too, and in the afternoon I report to the President. I really have a busy schedule."

"_Fascinating. I'll pick you up at eleven. There's a newly opened golf course I want to check out."_ It was as if she hadn't spoken, but his one-track mindedness made her laugh more than annoyed her. She didn't actually need to report to the President and she could squeeze time for him during lunch and another hour after that; she just wanted to keep him talking because, even if Dearka was arrogantly annoying — or annoyingly arrogant — he was one of her best entertainments. God, she loved him, and she told him so, laughing when he told her she had to get in line and wait for her turn with him just like his other admirers.

"You know, I don't really play golf. I don't even know how. After teeing, I'm pretty much useless in a golf course."

"_You suck even at that, babe."_

"I'm super busy tomorrow, then."

"_Of course, by 'suck' I meant 'blindingly spectacular.'"_

"You're bored, aren't you?" Even though she was taking a long time to agree, there was no doubt that she was going. Dearka's invitation couldn't have come at a more opportune time. It was the perfect chance to ask him about something that was bothering her. She knew she would feel bad about prying, but curiosity had always been her weakest point.

"_I don't get bored."_

She shook her head fondly even though he couldn't see her. "Fine. I'll squeeze you an appointment in my busy, busy schedule."

"_I love how you make people sound like they're such inconveniences. You set my heart a-flutter."_

"Good bye, Dearka," she said in a sing-song voice, and when she hung up, she resolved not to think much about how it went against her principles to make someone else's business her business. She was just upsetting herself and she hadn't even done it yet. She made no habit out of being nosy; it was just that, this time, she really wanted to know, so much so that she'd accepted to play golf with Dearka tomorrow so she could ask him. He was the only person she could get an answer from because Athrun, the one from whom she originally wanted to hear an answer, surely wouldn't provide it. He wouldn't even entertain her inquiry, she was certain, because what she wanted to know was about Nicol Amalfi's death.

**xxxxx**


	18. XVII: The One Where There's No Love Lost

Title: Play of the Fates (17 of ?)

Author: Paola

Disclaimer: _Play of the Fates_ is based on characters and situations that belong to Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asashi (and other production affiliates that have the right of ownership). No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fan fiction is solely for entertainment purposes.

Considerations: Similarities to other stories/events/passages and people, dead or alive, are purely coincidental unless otherwise cited. Characters not found on any official Gundam SEED/Gundam SEED Destiny character list belong to the author unless otherwise disclaimed. Citations and references will be found at the end of every chapter should they be made. Beliefs and points of view found in the story do not necessarily reflect those of the author's.

Historical figure/s, real company/ies, and other personality/ies used is/are for literary purposes only. Their use in this story should not be taken as facts.

The idea to make the chapter titles begin with "The One…" is from the TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S

This may, in all possible intent, be differently written compared to any of the author's previous literary ventures.

Rating: Rated M for language and adult situations. You have been warned.

_**Play of the Fates**_

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Dearka stared at the flakes of Wheaties that were getting soggy in his bowl, then looked at Yzak who was almost finished with his. "Because it's just impossible for you to get Fruit Loops like us normal people, right?" He pushed the bowl away from him.

Yzak gave him an irritable look. "If you hadn't planned on eating then you shouldn't have made one for yourself."

"Why are you eating cereals anyway?" He glanced at the wall clock. "It's almost lunch."

"Yeah, so?"

Dearka sighed in a manner suggestive of a teacher about to preach to an ignorant child. "In the famous words of George Glenn, 'get a life.'" He waited for an explosive reaction but he only got a questioning stare, which was a tad disappointing but expected since he himself wasn't entirely sure George Glenn actually said those words; the pompous bastard probably was really too pompous to use street slang anyway. "I'm serious. It's the middle of the day — no self-respecting guy eats alone in his apartment even if he stayed up all night working. You're a model, don't you have women hanging off your arm?"

Yzak shook his head at Dearka's faulty logic, but before he could reply, a loud meow permeated the air.

Dearka leant to the right and looked in the direction of the hallway where the sound was coming from. Then a tabby slinked within his vision. He returned his attention to Yzak. "I thought you hate cats?"

The fairhead gave an annoyed sigh. "I also hate you, don't I, and you're still inside my apartment."

"Testy."

"It's not mine. It's Stella's."

"Stella?" Dearka's eyes widened just as he placed the name, then his lips curled into a slow, disrespectful grin. "As in Loussier? That new reality TV star?" His friend grunted. "You're dating Loussier? And I didn't know? And hey, isn't that statutory?"

"Fuck off. She's eighteen, not eight."

Dearka laughed, thoroughly amused. "Oh, this is rich. And you're already pet-sitting for her!"

"I'm not! And we aren't dating."

"Just sleeping together."

"We _were_ dating, until she brought that fucking cat here."

"You're breaking up with her because of a cat? Harsh," Dearka didn't sound the least bit concerned and offended for the actress.

"Only people with insufficient personalities are fond of cats. I'm not fond of people with insufficient personalities."

"Again, harsh. Is that why she's not here right now? You kicked her out? How long have you been dating anyway?"

"A week, and I didn't kick her out. What do you think of me? We talked about the cat thing and _she walked out_. I haven't heard from her since last night, and if she doesn't call in the next hour, I'm letting her cat loose in the streets. And we haven't been dating. We _dated_. Weren't you listening?"

Dearka rolled his eyes. "And by 'talk' you meant ordered it to be taken away?" Yzak's antipathy towards cats ran deep, and if his memory served, it was because when Yzak was a kid, a stray cat had scratched him in the face and left an awful scar, forever traumatizing him. Dearka could remember laughing so hard when Yzak told him that, and since the moody Joule didn't take lightly to being teased about something he hated with a passion, Dearka had gotten a very ugly black eye the next day. He hadn't teased Yzak about cats since.

Yzak got up to retrieve a can of orange juice from the fridge. "Why are we talking about me? Aren't you here — _again_ — to talk about you?" Popping the tab and stopping himself from kicking the cat that was weaving itself between his legs, he eyed Dearka suspiciously. "What have you done now?"

"I love how you make me sound like a sinner without even trying," Dearka replied drolly. "You should teach me how to do that one of these days."

"Four things you come here for: you want my applause or you want to aggravate me."

"Those are only two things," Dearka corrected, looking slightly offended.

"Seeking applause is one thing. Aggravating me is career in itself: whining, having me assess your recent stupid action, and simply being here without an invitation. Take my house key, why don't you?" Yzak punctuated his sarcasm with a jerk of his thumb to point at the keys hanging off a hook near the counter.

"If Ms. Loussier heard this, she might think you dumped her because you're into me. And I don't whine! Complain, yes, a little, maybe, but never whine. Men don't whine."

Yzak shrugged, ignoring the jab at his manhood. "Whatever makes you feel secure." He looked at the clock then fixed Dearka a steely gaze. "I have a lunch meeting with my agent in two hours and I still have to fix up. Either you tell me what you're here for or you make yourself disappear in five seconds."

Dearka stretched lazily. "Your agent is Lessiane," he said flatly, as if that alone was sufficient explanation. "She'd have a fit, probably chuck a plate at you, skin you alive, the works, but she won't dismiss you even if you're five hours late."

Yzak didn't think he was amusing. "Work ethic, ever heard of it?" Then sighing exasperatedly, he began his countdown, "One, two—"

"I thought I'd invite you to play golf."

Yzak arched a perfect eyebrow. "And you couldn't have done that over the phone?"

"No."

"I have work. Just because you're on vacation doesn't mean we all are." Yzak looked at him cagily, seemingly understanding something suddenly. "Wait, you know I have work. I always have work on weekdays. Just who else did you invite?"

"Cagalli."

Yzak almost winced at Dearka's answer. "I don't even know why I bother to listen."

"This is normal. If I stay away, I'm just going to think about it, and I'm not gonna stop."

"So by staying close to her, it'll help you get over it? Are you a fucking idiot? And she's with Zala, if you _didn't_ notice."

The caustic pitch that rode the wave of Yzak's voice made Dearka lash out, "I know that! Do you think I'm blind? If it weren't for Athrun's strict sense of propriety, he'd have his tongue down her throat during that dinner!" He blew air through clenched teeth. "Besides, she's always gonna treat me as a friend. It's a reminder I need. A daily fucking reminder!"

Yzak was unfazed by his outburst. "See what I mean? Applause. You get an idea — a stupid one, _again_ — and you bounce it off me until I tell you it's the right thing to do. It's like you're asking me for permission, which you will ignore anyway. I'm not your keeper, Elsman."

The silence that followed was momentary, but it was the most deafening Yzak had heard.

"No, but you're my friend."

Something in Dearka's tone sealed Yzak's mouth and the retort he'd formed died in his throat. They both stared at each other, unforgiving, unwilling to backtrack, and too proud to look away, until Dearka stood up and thanked the fairhead for the food he didn't even touch.

It was a good thing that Dearka left right away after thanking him as Yzak was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to sock the living daylights out of the bastard for springing that line on him. If Dearka had not wanted to know what he thought, then the blonde shouldn't have come to his apartment.

_Dammit_, he was pissed. He was pissed at how stupid his friend was acting. But more than that, he was pissed at how Dearka had just implied he was a sorry excuse for a friend.

Yzak stalked towards his bathroom. If Dearka wanted to fuck up his own life, then Yzak wouldn't stop him. He wouldn't even watch from the sidelines — no he wouldn't, he convinced himself.

"_Fuck_ that bastard!"

**o-o**

"So I told them that I won't tolerate even a margin of error. They've been in this job longer than I have, but if they think seniority can cover their asses, well, they've got another thing coming. We don't run a circus of incompetents," Cagalli finished, popping a slice of orange in her mouth.

"You're one hellcat in the boardroom, aren't you?"

Cagalli cocked her head to the side, taking note of the distracted undercurrent in Dearka's answer — his usual sarcasm wasn't even sarcastic enough. Then she glanced at his untouched serving of strawberry napoleon. "Don't you like your dessert?"

Dearka's eyes moved from his food to her face with a disbelieving air. "Why wouldn't I like it? It's strawberries." As if to emphasize his point, he speared a halved berry and chewed on it with much gusto.

Cagalli didn't buy it.

Dearka was obsessed with strawberries as much as he was taken up in golf; he even wrote on strawberry-scented stationery when sending out thank you notes during the Christmas season. She used to tease him about it being a feminine fetish, but he would just wave her off or tell her that he was manly enough to ignore what other people thought. Weirdly enough, when he oh-so-insouciantly shared his preference for anything strawberry-related in an interview, his fans were all the more enamored of him because he was "confidently in touch with his feminine side." So for Dearka to neglect anything that had strawberries in it meant that something was not sitting well with him. Add the fact that she had been the only one starting and steering their conversations that she might as well have been monologuizing. If there was one thing Dearka was not, it was subdued.

There was another lull in the conversation, much like the previous ones in the car when he failed to reply. Cagalli sighed and looked around. They were in the club house of the newly opened golf course in the city. The course was not as big as Lesseps, but it was impressive in its own right. Because there was not much available natural land in the city, everything was brought in, from the soil to the grass, before the links course was sculpted to how it looked now. Looking out of the window, she could see the wire fences that enclosed the man-made course.

Cousteau Golf Club, as of its opening, was the only golf course in the city as other clubs were found on the outskirts of the metropolis, and to simulate the natural feel of the countryside, Cousteau was surrounded by high walls a quarter of a kilometer away from the wire fences with trees lining the cement to lend an even more out-of-the-city feel to the place.

Cagalli sighed and returned her attention to Dearka. Never one to enjoy the silence, she spoke up and went straight to the point, "Hey, anything the matter?"

Dearka waved off her concern before he realized what he was doing. He was here with Cagalli because he needed to feel that things were still running smoothly between them, that he could act like he didn't harbor feelings for her, and not because he was chasing after a dream, as Yzak was inclined to believe. What was Yzak thinking anyway? He wasn't begging for affection from Cagalli, and neither was he seeking applause from Yzak. He wasn't — Yzak was just delusional.

Realizing that he didn't want to be forced to talk about what was bothering him, he smiled and decided not to think about his problem. "The starving children in Africa. The people sick with swine flu. The worsening global economy. And all before I could change the channel to ESPN. I just had a difficult morning. Don't worry your pretty self over me."

Her forehead crinkled as she wasn't certain whether she should push for a better explanation, but his long-winded answer pulled her towards believing that he maybe hadn't been okay a while ago, but was definitely back to his slaphappy self. "Are you sure?"

"When am I not sure?" He gestured towards her oranges. "And _what _is that?"

"Italian poached oranges!" she replied with relish. "Want some?"

Dearka looked as though she was offering him poison, then signaled for a waiter and ordered a slice of strawberry cheesecake for her, but not before insulting the dessert Cagalli had chosen for herself — _Sweetheart, oranges are when life screws you and decides you're not worth the lemons._ She ignored him; she was only too happy to eat another sugary goodness.

Their conversation drifted from one topic to another, and Dearka found himself enjoying the day despite his earlier disagreement with Yzak. Normally, he wouldn't have lost his temper because Yzak was only acting like how he usually did, but because he considered the topic too sensitive to be dismissed as easily as the fairhead had, he'd gone on the defensive, something that rarely happened. Even though Yzak appeared not to genuinely care, Dearka knew better. They had known each other longer than they'd known the rest of their friends, and he respected Yzak's opinions and views, which were commonly irritatingly accurate when it came to how Dearka handled his affairs.

"Hey."

Cagalli's hand over his distracted him from his line of thought, but before he could put any meaning to it, his rational mind kicked in and he knew instantly how comfortable the gesture was because it was done with the confidence backed by a history of friendship. Just friendship, genuine and real, and he convinced himself he wasn't bitter. He was good at that.

"You called me out to play golf, and your time's nearly over. I can't keep shuffling my schedule for you, buster." Cagalli had agreed to meet with Dearka because she wanted to ask him something about a certain someone, but now that she was given the opportunity, she couldn't think of how to broach the topic. It wasn't as though she could just outright ask about what happened to Nicol Amalfi, firstly because Dearka didn't know she knew of him, and secondly, she really didn't have anything to do with the pianist.

Now that she thought about it, maybe Athrun wasn't acting weirdly that time in her apartment. Maybe it was just a natural reaction towards the subject of a friend's death. Maybe. Except she couldn't shake off the feeling that it was more than that.

Cagalli almost snorted at herself. She was being nosy, and no matter how she justified her curiosity, it couldn't be doubted that it all came down to her prying into someone else's business.

Dearka leant back and made himself even more comfortable in his seat. "Still want to hit the course?"

"Didn't you?"

"I did. I don't anymore; I'm comfy already. Do you?"

"I don't like golf to begin with. And I don't think there's enough time."

Dearka dramatically placed a hand over his heart, as though wounded by her confession. "Babe, sweetheart, love of my life, how can you dislike something I'm very good at?"

Cagalli rolled her eyes, more to calm her guilty conscience by offering a response expected of her than to actually react to Dearka's affectations, which, now that she noted their relaxed exchange, easily breezed through her, so used as she was to his theatrics.

This was her chance. Dearka was acting like himself and they were casually talking — he surely would answer her inquiry regarding a certain pianist just as frankly as he would questions about golf. Besides, he had no way of knowing that she hadn't stumbled upon the connection by accident. She could fake her interest, fake even a few little details on how she knew, so he wouldn't be wary of talking about the topic. Easy as pie.

"Hey, Dearka."

"Yes, love?"

"Remember" — _when you told me about this talented musician friend of yours? I never did get to meet him_, she could start, lie about her facts, and convince him that he did mention Nicol once even if he hadn't and say that he must have just forgotten — "when I said I had a busy schedule?" God, she could cry in frustration. She couldn't do it. No matter how much she wanted to know, she couldn't do it. Her scruples were too ingrained for her to chuck away, and going behind Athrun's back to know something he himself hadn't felt like telling her was against most of what she stood for. They might not entirely have the healthiest relationship, but as a friend — she resolved not to think about how exactly they were "friends" — she supposed she owed him this kind of respect.

Dearka looked at her weirdly, and she smirked at him. "I wasn't kidding." She checked her watch.

Dearka shook his head and laughed. "Okay, okay, I get it, I get the hint." Standing up, he brushed imaginary lint off his pants then offered her his hand. "Come on, I'll bring you back to your office." When she placed her hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Why am I surrounded by such workaholics?"

It was with a mocking grin that she walked out of the clubhouse with Dearka, and it didn't take more than thirty minutes for her to be back to the busy working environment of Akatsuki Insurance, where, haunted by unwanted questions about Nicol Amalfi's death, she grudgingly went about her day's work.

**o-o**

In the late afternoon, Cagalli found herself in front of an old cake shop, hesitating to enter and eternally glad that there were only a few patrons entering and exiting for it would have been embarrassing for her to be just standing there by the door like an awkward teenager meeting up with a boy. Of course, the thought alone almost lifted her hesitancy because the person she would be meeting up with was nowhere close to being the one she had her eyes on. If anything, he was someone she wanted very much to be rid of.

When an elderly man excused himself, Cagalli popped out of her reverie and smiled apologetically for blocking the entrance. She offered a small smile and got the door for him, entering the establishment after him.

Upon entering, she wasn't surprised that there wasn't a wave of memories assaulting her. This cake shop used to be her and her ex-boyfriend's favorite spot, and until today it remained precious to her, but not because it reminded her of their time together. The cake shop was simply a nice, cozy place with owners very friendly towards their customers.

She hadn't been by for a while, not since the break-up a year and a half ago, and as she surveyed the surroundings, she noted nothing much had changed except for the north wall on which paintwork was being done. By the counter was a tall man wearing worker's overalls splattered with paint, currently speaking with the owner while gesturing towards the unfinished wall.

Breathing deeply, she called out when it seemed that the two men had finished their conversation, "Santi?"

At the sound of his name, Santi turned around, unsurprised to see her. "Cagalli." He gestured towards an empty booth, putting away his paintbrushes before joining her. "Want anything?"

Cagalli shook her head. Santi, like that day in the park, seemed to be a different man from the one who had troubled her by being constantly on her tail. But before she could ponder the difference, she remembered how he really was when they first met.

Santi was a level-headed person, cool and collected, and now that she thought about it, a little on the boring side when he wasn't in one of his artist moods. It was her who had suggested the break-up, and it really took her by surprise when he appeared to have taken a 180-degree turn and began stalking her, getting under her skin and irritating her to the extent that had he showed his face every day and everywhere, she'd have filed for a restraining order without hesitation.

"The owner commissioned me to paint a mural along the length of this wall," he volunteered by way of starting a conversation, motioning towards the unfinished painting.

Cagalli gazed at the mix of blues that made up the sky, offering a polite compliment. Santi had always been good at his chosen profession and had twice held an exhibit in his name, but she hadn't agreed to come to talk about his art.

"Santi, I'm not going to lie and say I'm enjoying this small talk." Her tone very much told him that he should just get to the point.

Sighing but not arguing with her, he spoke, "I know I was aggravating, what with all that stalking. I can't even imagine how irritated you probably were. I have to say, I was left bitter, and I don't know what came over me. It just…sort of happened." He looked away, as if to collect his thoughts. "I'll usually chuck my behavior up to an artist's dramatics, but I know you won't buy that."

Cagalli rolled her eyes quite rudely. "You know why we broke up, Santi. We were never really good for each other." Their disagreements were particularly nasty, what with her ingrained stubbornness and his artistic whims and moods. "And God, Santi, you drove me up the wall when you started acting like a terrible puppy after that!"

Santi almost winced at her words. "For all it's worth, I'm sorry. Sorry for driving you crazy, and not even in that good way men drive women crazy."

Cagalli, despite her sense of humor, didn't think it was very appropriate to make that kind of joke given their situation, and her laughter rang a little hollow. "Why now? I mean, I'm grateful you're growing up, but why just now you decide to leave me alone?" she asked, studying the man before her with the eyes of a casual observer instead of a lover. There wasn't a deep interest when her gaze swept over the slant of his eyes, the hollow in his high cheekbones, the tilt of his nose, and the curve of his thin mouth. He wasn't handsome in the way that Athrun was: Santi had always had pointy features, angles that sloped and dipped almost too harshly to be called enchanting, but they worked on his face, somehow creating a sharpness that was attractive in its own right; she was telling the truth when she told Athrun that her ex-boyfriend wasn't as cute as a puppy because his features were too sharp for that certain adjective.

Santi was a little pale, too, but in a way that emphasized that where Athrun was reasonably and fetchingly sun-dappled, Santi was unfortunately a little too moon-kissed. His head of white-blonde hair, which was now longer than how he usually wore it and limper than what was generally attractive, highlighted the grey of his eyes; Cagalli was secretly still very fond of his eyes — they had always been her favorite.

Santi opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. And then he tried a dismissive wave, but it fell short of the desired effect. "You were my muse, Cagalli. The rollercoaster that was our relationship was a source of inspiration. I know, that sounds insane, but it's true. You're right, we weren't in a healthy relationship, and I fed off the foolishness that followed us. Shit, I lost my head completely when we broke up!"

Santi, Cagalli thought not too fondly, would forever be the artist that couldn't separate his work from his personal life. Their relationship hadn't always been bad; it had its good points, too, but it would be a stretch to say that she'd been madly in love with him then. There was a little something between them, but it wasn't enough to hold their relationship together.

"I followed you around because I couldn't paint."

Cagalli understood what remained unsaid: There was a part of him that enjoyed getting her harried because Santi was vindictive like that; it was a petty childishness she didn't use to mind. Then and there, Cagalli was assured that her inadequate love for him had been mutual; he hadn't loved her more than she loved him, and she found now that she wasn't in the least bit offended.

"But as you can see now, I can pick up a paintbrush and do work. Again."

"I see," she agreed indifferently. "This is finally goodbye, isn't it?" she asked, and when he nodded, she could barely suppress her sigh of relief. "I just have to ask: You've found your new muse, haven't you? That's why you're back to being how I knew you?" Her question implied as well that what he'd found was also the reason he hadn't popped out of nowhere recently.

Santi peered at her from beneath his bangs, which had gotten too long that they almost obscured his eyes from view. "Not quite, but she's something else."

Cagalli nodded, more as an automatic response than approval. Desultorily, she surveyed the shop, testing another question in her head before returning her attention to him. "Same time, same place," she echoed what he'd said in the park, "it's really because you're recently always here due to work than anything else, right? There's no meaning behind it, is there? No special dedication to our past?"

Santi cocked his head to the side, and the look he leveled her with was almost calculating. "I'm laying the cards down as they are," he said, setting the premise of his answer.

"I know."

"No, there isn't any special meaning to it, but even if I had no job here, you'd have still found me — same time, same place. Here. If only because I had to apologize."

His answer settled well with her. They'd split up months ago, and as he regarded their past relationship with nothing but a cool, impersonal acceptance, she found she wasn't disturbed by it. She knew that he knew they weren't for each other, and there was no love lost between them.

Cagalli smiled, this time genuinely, because he'd done more than just apologize, and he'd admitted more to her in the span of a few minutes than in the months they'd been together.

Having settled what she came to the shop for, she stood up and thrust her hand towards him. He didn't hesitate to shake it. "If I see you again, Santi, it's because it's an accident. It's never going to be by design."

Santi understood the order that oozed out of her words, and although he didn't like that she was dictating the terms, he knew he deserved being talked to like that and was quite amenable to the condition. "Of course." Then he pulled her closer, dropping a swift kiss on her mouth in that familiar manner that wasn't quite allowed between them anymore, and then he was grinning at her nonplussed look. He deserved being talked down, but that didn't mean he'd take it very graciously.

"Good bye, babe. It was interesting while it lasted."

As she slid out the booth, frowning at his actions, she called, "Santi?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd get back at you if it didn't mean I'd have to stay in your presence longer."

He laughed. "I know."

**o-o**

Athrun shook hands with Uzumi as the latter saw him out of his office. Following the bursting of the housing bubble and the advent of the financial crisis, he'd had to attend to the change in insurance agencies because the original agency covering their employees was undergoing liquidation threats as the mother company in the United States was suffering heavily from the worsening economy. The blow to Genesis Motors was manageable and need not be attended to by him, but given his connection with Uzumi Athha, the president of Akatsuki Insurance, he had offered to undertake the initial work to expedite the process. So here he was, just finished meeting with Uzumi as Genesis Motors had decided to seek coverage from Akatsuki Insurance, which, according to the news, was very much unaffected by the crisis in the West.

As he rode the lift to the lobby, he checked the messages in his Blackberry, noting to return his secretary's call and trying not to be surprised to see another message from his father. His father rarely contacted him, and when he did, it was almost always about business. It had always been like that, every opportunity for communication was set by his father, and not once did he feel happy about it — he and his father just didn't have the easy camaraderie of a normal father and son, at least, not since his mother died.

Pocketing his Blackberry, he dismissed his thoughts before he could go further down that unpleasant lane, and with the action, he ignored calling back his father right that instant. He'd deal with him some other time.

The elevator dinged.

Akatsuki Insurance's lobby was an expansive floor area of polished marble made to look even bigger by the wall-to-ceiling mirror off to the right. The middle was occupied by the reception desk, by the mirror was a set of black-leather armchairs and loveseats, and to the left was a line of ATM machines. It was currently filled with people hurrying to get out of the office and go home, and when he chanced a look out the glass doors, he could see how dark it had gotten. It was past office hours, and it was only because he personally knew Uzumi that he had gotten an appointment this late in the day.

As he left the lift, he recognized the person standing in front of the reception desk: Cagalli was receiving a sealed envelope from the woman behind the counter, and then handing over a different manila envelope and offering instructions that the receptionist jotted down on a piece of paper. Just the person he wanted to see. There was something in the way she behaved that was always soothing somehow, something elementary, something uncomplicated and just completely natural that put him at ease.

"Cagalli," he called out.

At the sound of her name, Cagalli looked up and saw Athrun ambling towards her, automatically feeling guilty. She returned to the office after meeting with Santi because she'd forgotten to leave her business with the receptionist, and she didn't expect she'd be seeing Athrun here. She hadn't wanted to see him because she'd known that meeting up with Santi would make her feel guilty since, although she hadn't expressly told Athrun she'd stay away from her ex-boyfriend, she'd given him the impression that she would do so at his request. She wasn't obligated to tell him who she met up with, and the guilt she was feeling set her teeth on edge.

Schooling her expression, she met him halfway and extended her hand. He looked at it strangely for a moment before chuckling and taking it, fortunately understanding her gesture as they were in her office and their closeness was not something to be broadcasted, especially given how office rumors were quick to circulate.

"What brought you here?"

"I asked your father for your hand in marriage."

She arched an eyebrow. "So I can add to your collection of fiancées? No thanks," she retorted, to which Athrun laughed.

They began to exit the building together when she offered that she had no more business in the office. "Dinner?"

"Date?"

"What?"

"Sex?"

"_What?"_

"Chinese?"

Cagalli glared, but Athrun was so honestly amused that she deflated. Where Dearka was openly aware of how his attitude and behavior affected other people and consequently didn't care much if he annoyed them, Athrun seemed to be just testing how far he could take things before he had to stop because it wasn't in his nature to be abrasively irritating. It was almost an endearing comparison, but something she thought was better left unexplored.

"Well, okay. I'm kind of tired, so maybe we can get take-out and camp out in my kitchen," she agreed.

**o-o**

An hour and a half later, Cagalli's kitchen table was as clean as it could be while her coffee table in the living room was a mess of polystyrene containers, boxes of rice, and cans of soda. She was lying on her side on the couch, tugging listlessly at Athrun's hair while he sat on the floor, leaning on the couch and tilting his head until it was resting on the sofa.

"You know," Cagalli started, "we should have dinner with my father." She paused, almost dramatically. "I make myself cringe sometimes," she laughed at her own joke, that drowsy laugh Athrun was now familiar with when Cagalli was barely keeping herself awake.

"You get weirder every time. If you get any more mental, you'd be asking where the Batman is."

He laughed when she bopped him on the head. "But you're right. Maybe we should."

"God, I hope we're still kidding."

Athrun shifted from his position to look at her. "No, I'm serious." Sliding his hand under her head, he lifted himself up to the couch, adjusting her so she was half-sprawling on him. "I mean, I've already done the most crucial part anyway."

Cagalli tilted her head to look at him, slightly alarmed. "What crucial part?"

He gestured vaguely with his free hand. "You know, asking for your hand in marriage."

"You tosser!" She flicked his nose hard, earning herself a surprised yelp and a hearty chuckle. For a moment, Cagalli had the crazy notion that he wasn't playing around, and she almost felt guilty at how relieved she was when it became obvious that he was only pulling her leg.

"I resent that. And here in Orb, we call them 'idiots.' Tosser's for vulgar Britons, not for an Orb lady who's about to be kissed senseless. Or has Dearka's English jig converted you to preferring being snogged silly?"

Before she could reply, he'd already pulled her down to seal her lips over his, a consuming kiss that more than rendered her senseless. There was something about being kissed as thoroughly as she was now that set free a thousand butterflies in her stomach and turned her legs into jelly; it was a good thing she was lying down or she'd have collapsed on the floor.

When he pulled back, Cagalli was certain that the glazed look in his eyes was reflected in hers as well.

"If that was being kissed senseless, I'd take that over being snogged silly any day."

He grinned almost wolfishly. "Why don't we try getting you snogged silly and see if it compares?"

Cagalli laughed, planting her hands on his chest and pushing herself up, ending up straddling him.

"Next week we've got ourselves a long weekend. This is what you actually call a three-day grace." Athrun chuckled at his own joke.

Cagalli smiled then offered him a confused look. "Long weekend?"

"Friday's a holiday, then Saturday and Sunday."

"Oh yeah, I've forgotten about that." She cocked her head to the side. "Do you have plans? Do _we_ have plans?"

"I have business in Onogoro, and the crew's thinking of making a trip out of it."

"The crew?"

Athrun looked at her strangely. "Yes, Kira and the rest."

"You call them the 'crew'?" She couldn't help it: She burst out laughing. Athrun just didn't seem like someone who used "crew" to refer to his group of friends, and the idea was just too ridiculous for her that it was difficult to let the moment pass.

"What, pray tell, is so funny?"

"_You!_ You and you're crew! That's a laugh and a half! What, having them call you boss man or captain or something?"

"Or something. Dearka had us call him captain once," Athrun replied seriously, although a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth at her obvious enjoyment.

Her laughter abruptly died. "No kidding?"

He shook his head. "Kira said 'gang' was for bikers, which we apparently aren't. Yzak was of the opinion that 'group' is too passé — don't ask me. Dearka suggested crew, and it stuck. Don't ask either how we got to talking about that. We just did, and that was that."

Cagalli nearly pouted before she realized what she was about to do and then proceeded to frown instead. "That's anti-climactic."

Athrun grinned at her put-off expression. "I could tell you a story about a boy who has a scar on his forehead and sails the galaxy far, far away to retrieve the key to Davey Jones' locker, but that's really beside the point, and I don't think I have my facts right." He traced her lower lip, and Cagalli felt a shiver run down her spine. "Anyway, Onogoro, so that's my plan for the long weekend. What do you say about making it _our_ plan?"

"I don't know. What will I get out of it?"

Athrun shifted their positions in one liquid motion and grinned quite mischievously, making Cagalli's breath catch in her throat — he was just too painfully good-looking. His hand swept the hair away from her eyes, sliding down her throat where his thumb skimmed over the pulse that jumped when she saw his tongue wet his lower lip. Then he dipped his head so that when he talked, his mouth brushed hers. "What do you think?"

Her mind worked to say something, but when he captured her lips in another devouring kiss that spoke of desires designed for tonight, Cagalli irrevocably became incapable of thinking.

**xxxxx**

My darling readers, I really wonder what steamy scenes your minds are plying you with right now upon reading "desires designed for tonight." ;p

Citation/s:

"People with insufficient personalities are fond of cats." – Henry Morgan

Reference/s:

Dearka's strawberry obsession is an idea borrowed from SlvrSoleAlchmst1, chapter 9 of _Strawberry Deluge: The Never Ending Blaze_ specifically for strawberry-scented paper. The idea will be disclaimed under "Considerations" in future chapters it will be used.

Cousteau Golf Club is named after one of ZAFT's Vosgulov-class submarines, Cousteau. ()

"…oranges are when life screws you and decides you're not worth the lemons." – Derived from "… have you ever heard the expression, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and then throw it in the face of the person who gave you the lemons until they give you the oranges you originally asked for?'" – Bill McNeal on _NewsRadio, Season 3 Episode 17: Airport_

Santi's physical description (mainly tall, pale, pointy-faced, white-blond-haired, and grey-eyed) is based on the description of _Draco Malfoy_, a character from the _Harry Potter_ series. (Whether the description is strictly canon or not, I'm sorry, I don't quite remember. A mix of fanon and canon perhaps.)


End file.
